Theism : the witness of reason and nature to an all-wise and beneficent creator

L T B R A^ R Y

Theological Seminary,

PRINCETON. N.J.

BL 200 .T9 1855
Case Tulloch, John, 1823-1886
Shetj Theism

Booh, -.o..„..

BUENETT TREATISE

MDCCCLIV

THEISM: THE WITNESS OF EEASON AND NATUEE

TO AN ALL -WISE AND BENEFICENT

CEEATOE

PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH.

THEISM:

THE WITNESS OF SEASON AND NATUEE TO

AN ALL-WISE AND BENEEICENT

CEEATOK.

BY THE

REV. JOHN TULLOCH, D.D.

PniNCIPAL, AND PBIMARIU3 PROFESSOR OP THEOLOGY,
ST MARY'S COLLEGE, ST ANDREWS.

ZyiTi7v Tov KC^iiv, It «f« "yt •^r,XK(fY,trit(x.v eclrov xcii Vj^oiIv KAITOIFE
OT MAKPAN AnO EN02 EKA2T0T HMfiN TnAPXONTA.

—Acta of the Apostles, ivii, 27.

WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS

EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MDCCCLV

TO

SIE DAVID BEEWSTEK,

C.I.. F.R.S. V.p.n.S,, EDINBURGH, MEMBKR OF THE INSTITUTE OF PRANCE, ANE
PRINCIPAL OF ST LEONARD'S COLLEGE, ST ANDREWS.

MY DEAR SIR DAVID,

I DEDICATE this VoluHie to you with sincere pleasure.
Through your kindness I was enabled, while engaged in its compo-
sition, to have beside me certain volumes which otherwise I would
have had great dilficulty in procuring in my retirement in the
country. I am glad to have such an opportunity of acknowledging
this favour, as well as of expressing my grateful sense of the hearty
interest which you have always taken in my studies, and my convic-
tion of the cordiality with which you are always ready to respond
to any demands on your literary sympathy, and to lend your
encouragement to studious aspiration.

I feel, moreover, that I can, with peculiar fitness, dedicate to you
the attempt which is made in this Volume to trace some portion of
the Divine meaning everywhere inscribed on Nature, and illustrated
by the progress of Scientific Discovery. However imperfect this
attempt may be, I am sure that it is one which will warmly engage
your regard.

Allow me to express the hope that you may be long spared to
adorn our ancient University, on which your name and distin-
guished labours in science and literature have already conferred
so much lustre.

I have the honour to be.

My dear Sir David,

Yours faithfully,

JOHN TULLOCH.

St Mary's College,
St Andrews.

PREFACE.

The circumstances in which this Essay originated
are probably familiar to many. It has been thought
proper, however, briefly to state them here.

Mr Burnett, a merchant in Aberdeen, whose
character appears to have been marked by a rare
degree of Christian sensibility and benevolence,
amongst other acts of liberality,''' bequeathed certain
sums, to be expended at intervals of forty years, in the
shape of two Premiums, inviting to the discussion
of the evidences of religious truth, and especially to
the consideration and confirmation of the attributes
of Divine AVisdom and Goodness. The exact terms

* Mr Webster, agent for the Burnett Trustees, informs me that Mr
Bmniett's Christian liberality extended itself to many important objects
but too little attended to in his time;— for example, the care of pauper
lunatics, and the religious instruction of poor persons in jail, for both of
which objects he left benevolent provision.— The date of Mr Burnett's
Deed of Bequest is 1785.

vm PEEFACE.

of the subject of inquiry, as given in Mr Burnett's
own deed of bequest, will be found to head the
Introduction which opens the present Essay.

On the previous occasion of competition, the first
of the Premiums was awarded to the late Principal
Brown of Aberdeen, and the second to the Eev. John
Bird Sumner, Fellow of Eton College, and now"
Archbishop of Canterbury.

On this occasion, the First Premium of £1800
has been adjudged to the Eev. E. A. Thompson,
M.A., Lincolnshire ; and the second, of £600, to the
present writer; — the judges having been Mr Isaac
Taylor, Mr Henry Eogers, and the Eev. Baden
Powell.

In passing my Essay through the press, I have
submitted it to a careful and thorough revision.
Although the subject had been long in my mind, it
had, in the end, assumed form very hurriedly ; and
on my receiving the manuscript back, many parts
appeared to me greatly capable of improvement. I
have not hesitated, therefore, to correct freely, with
the view of imparting to the argument greater con-
sistency, and to the whole a better finish. In its
general plan and principles, however, the Essay
remains substantially the same. Of the truth of

PREFACE. IX

these principles I feel, witli the farther opportu-
nity of reflection, only the more convinced, if I
still continue to feel, as I truly do, that my repre-
sentation of them is very imperfect.

In reference to much of the illustrative matter
embraced in the Essay, I think it right to state here,
that I make no pretensions to an independent
investigation of the scientific details. My special
studies, such as they are, have been devoted to quite
diflferent provinces of inquiry. I have gathered
my illustrative materials, therefore, from the most
available sources which occurred to me, writing in a
retired country Manse, where the difficulty of pro-
curing the requisite books for such a miscellaneous
course of study can only be understood by those who
have experienced it. These sources, in some cases,
are certainly not so original as I could have desired ;
but I have conscientiously aimed, in all cases, to
present the facts as accurately as I could ascertain
them; and there is little, if anything, of what I
have thus collected that will, I think, be found open
to a charge of inadvertency or inaccuracy.

The spirit of fairness and comprehensiveness in
which I have endeavoured to seize my subject
throughout, will, I hope, commend itself to my readers.
I have sought the truth simply; I have sought it

X PREFACE.

with respect and tolerance for the opinions of those
from whom I differ, but have never shrunk, in defe-
rence to any names, from the assertion of my own
convictions. I certainly did not undertake the sub-
ject from the first as a mere taskwork, but because
I felt a true interest in it, and conceived that it was
capable, in some respects, of a more argumentatively
consistent treatment than it had hitherto received.
How far I have accomplished this my aim must be
left to the judgment of others.

I have further to express my acknowledgments
to the kind friends who have given me their aid
and advice in the correction of the press. I would
fain have mentioned my obligations in this respect
more particularly, had I been permitted.

It is my earnest prayer that the volume now sub-
mitted to the public may in some degree fulfil, under
the Divine blessing, the benevolent purpose in which
it originated. May it strengthen, in the hearts of
those who read it, impressions of that Divine wisdom
and love which are all around them, and ever near
to them.

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION,

Page
1

SECT. I.— PRINCIPLES OF INDUCTIVE EVIDENCE,

Chap. 1. trinciples of evidence,
.,. 2. doctrine of causation, .
... 3. doctrine op final causes,
... 4. theistic conclusion (general laws), .

Supplementary, special (geological) evidence of a creator,

SECT. II.— ILLUSTRATIVE (INDUCTIVE) EVIDENCE,

Chap. 1. cosmical arrangements, ....

... 2. structure of the earth, . . . •

... 3. cosmical and terrestrial magnitudes— divine power,
... 4. elementary combinations — crystallisation,
... 5. organisation— design,

... 6. SPECIAL organic PHENOMENA — VEGETABLE,

... 7. SPECIAL ORGANIC PHENOMENA — ANIMAL,

... 8. TYPICAL FORMS — DIVINE WISDOM,

... 9. MENTAL ORDER,

... 10. SENSATION— DIVINE GOODNESS,

... 11. INSTINCT,

... 12. COGNITIVE STRUCTURE IN MAN,

... 13. EMOTIVE STRUCTURE IN MAN,

81
83
103
113
118
126
137
151
171
182
186
194
202
224

xu

CONTENTS.

SECT. III.— MORAL INTUITIVE EVIDENCE,
Chap. 1. moral intuitive evidence,
... 2. freedom — divine personality,
... 3. conscience— divine righteousness,
... 4. reason— infinity, (a priori argument),

Page
249

251

254

268
277

SECT. IV.— DIFFICULTIES REGARDING THE DIVINE WISDOM

AND GOODNESS, 293

Chap. 1. statement of difficulties, etc., . . . 295

2. general considerations, intended TO OBVIATE DIFFI-
CULTIES, ...... 298

3. SPECIAL EXAMINATION OF DIFFICULTIES— PHYSICAL PAIN

305

314
322
329

AND DEATH, ......

4. SPECIAL EXAMINATION OF DIFFICULTIES — S0RR6w,

5. SPECIAL EXAMINATION OF DIFFICULTIES— SOCIAL EVILS,

6. SPECIAL EXAMINATION OF DIFFICULTIES— SIN,

7. CONSIDERATIONS, ETC. — DERIVED FROM " WRITTEN

REVELATION," ..... 344

8. THE DIVINE MAN— INCARNATE WISDOM AND LOVE, . 350

9. THE GOSPEL A DIVINE POWER OF MORAL ELEVATION AND

CONSOLATION, ...... 356

10. LIMITED RECEPTION OF THE GOSPEL— MILLENNIAL PRO-
SPECT, ...... 362

CONCLUSION,

367

EREATA.

Page 79, lines 15, 16, delete marks of quotation.
91, line 15, for sway read sways.
... 120, line 5, for induce read produce.

... 127, begin quotation with ''only finds," 7th line from bottom.
».. 172, Note, read " In so far as we know, the term Morphology," &c. ;

and /or Burduch read Burdach.
... 307, line 8th from bottom, delete ''not."

INTRODUCTION.

INTRODUCTION.

" The evidence that there is a Being, all-poweeful,
wise, and good, by whom everything exists ; and
particularly to obviate difficulties regarding the

WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF THE DeITY ; AND THIS, IN
THE FIRST PLACE, FROM CONSIDERATIONS INDEPENDENT
OF WRITTEN REVELATION ; AND, IN THE SECOND PLACE,
FROM THE EeVELATION OF THE LORD JeSUS ; AND,
FROM THE WHOLE, TO POINT OUT THE INFERENCES MOST
NECESSARY FOR, AND USEFUL TO, MANKIND/'

Some ambiguity seems to rest on the main subject here
claiming the consideration of the Essayist. The words may
be so interpreted as to give for the special subject of Essay
the polemical treatment of the various objections that have
been urged against the wisdom and goodness of the Deity.
This, however, is not the interpretation which they were
probably intended to bear. The special attention claimed to
difficulties respecting the Divine wisdom and goodness was
not meant, in all likelihood, to constitute these the chief
topicsof treatment, in contrastto thegeneral subject announced

2 THEISM.

in the first clause ; but simply to indicate that, inasmuch as
these attributes have been more frequently the objects of
sceptical assault, and are in themselves more obviously ex-
posed to cavil, so they deserve a more particular proof, not
only on positive grounds, but in direct reference to the ob-
jections which readily occur, and have been often brought
against them. The truth is, that, in any attempt " to obvi-
ate" these difficulties, the main recourse must ever be to the
vastly preponderating positive evidence in favour of the
wisdom and goodness of the Deity; and just the more
thorough and complete the presentation of this evidence,
the less force will be felt in such difficulties, and the less
trouble in dealing with them polemically.

In any point of view, therefore, we consider ourselves justi-
fied in regarding the main and proper subject of Essay as
that announced in the first clause — viz., the " Evidence that
there is a Being, all-powerful, wise, and good, by whom
everything exists.'' And to this subject, accordingly, the
bulk of the present treatise is devoted.

The science of Natural Theology has especially suffered
from the narrow and one-sided spirit in which it has been
cultivated. Separate inquirers have generally given them-
selves to some favourite branch of evidence, which they
have not been content merely to explore by itself, but which
they have aimed to exalt over other branches. The succes-
sive labours of natural theologians appear in this way to
present the spectacle rather of inconsistent structures, dis-
placuig or overlying one another, than of parts fitting har-
moniously together into one great scheme of argument. The
still standing dispute between the a posteriori and a priori

INTRODUCTION. 3

classes of thinkers, testifies strongly to this discordance.
While some profound and earnest men have sought to
raise the whole superstructure of natural theology upon an
a priori datum, others, equally earnest, though with less
speculative power, have at once put aside all such attempts
as useless, and even impugned them with a jealous restric-
tiveness.

Zeal on the one side has provoked contempt on the other ;
and here, as in other cases, the abstract reasoner and the
popular expositor have seemed to stand as opponents, rather
than as helpmates in the same cause.*

The result of this has been not a little confusion and un-
certainty as to the principles of the science on the one hand,
and its comprehensiveness on the other. With a general
acknowledgment of the convincing mass of evidence on
which it is based, the clear logical coherence and relative
bearing of that evidence are still very indistinctly appre-
hended. The problem of natural theology — what it really
is ? what principles it involves ? and the distinctive character
and force of these principles ? — it cannot be said that there
exists anything like harmony of opinion on these questions.
Great as was the service rendered to the science by the
varied interest and argumentative skill of the Bridgewater
Treatises, these questions lay beyond the formal range of
any of them ; and, with all the light which they cast on its
diversified applications, they contributed but little to the

* This conflict among natural theologians was already indicated by Kant
in his great work, in which he submits all the separate modes of theistic
argument to a keenly scientific sifting. And it is impossible that any can be
familiar with even our own British Hterature on the subject, without being
made aware of the existence of such a conflict.

4 THEISM.

determination, the scientific analysis and co-ordination of its
fundamental doctrine.

But so far as the interests of the science are concerned
in our day, this is undoubtedly the special task required of
the natural theologian. It is in the region of First Prin-
ciples, above all, that an earnest and sifting discussion is now
taking place. There is an evident striving to grasp in a
clearer solution, to hold in a more thorough unity and
comprehensiveness than have been hitherto attained, the
elements of our science. The spirit of eclecticism which
has largely penetrated philosophy in general, is seeking, in
this department of it, with special eagerness, a common
centre and pervading interest. We have ourselves, at least,
strongly felt the necessity for a treatment of the theistic
problem at once more penetrating and synthetic, and have
accordingly aimed at such a treatment of it in the present
essay.

We apprehend the theistic evidence, as far as possible,
under one plan or scheme, which may be generally called
" Inductive." Inasmuch, however, as this plan of evidence,
in its very conception, rests upon certain definite principles
of philosophical belief, we consider it necessary, in the first
instance, to lay down and verify these principles. We have
felt that, in the present state of speculative discussion, we
could not for a moment take these principles for granted,
seeing that the two most living and active schools of philo-
sophical unbelief proceed upon the express negation of them,
and that in them really lies the gist of the theistic problem.
It is our aim, accordingly, not merely to state these princi-
ples, but to establish them.

INTEODUCTION. 5

Having laid down a satisfactory basis of principles, we
proceed, in the second section of the essay, to unfold, in
something like organic relation and coherence, the array of
inductive or a 'posteriori evidence for the Divine power,
wisdom, and goodness presented by the vastly diversified
phenomena of matter and of mind. This obviously is a
boundless field, which no range of inquiry can exliaust, and
which, even were it possible, it would be needless, for the
end in view, to try to exhaust. Our object is simply to
unfold the distinguishing and essential features of this ever-
accumulating mass of evidence, and to present them, as far
as we can, in an order of progression, in which they may be
seen to bear with expansive force upon the vindication and
illustration of the Divine character. We advance from the
more general and simple phenomena of nature, through the
more complex, up to the highest and most subtle combinar-
tions to be found in man's intellectual and emotive consti-
tution ; and in the course of this procession it is our chief
aim — that under the guidance of which we advance — to
seize and set forth those ultimate typical realities which all
along meet us, and which, while in their mystery they point
directly back to a Divine Source, serve at the same time
prominently to characterise this Source. It is only some
guiding aim of this sort, however imperfectly it may be
carried out, that could bring within any intelligible limits,
or give any living interest to, such a survey.

Whereas the section on " Principles '' will, it is hoped,
serve to verify on the deepest gTounds the fundamental
theistic conception of an intelligent Pirst Cause, — this
second illustrative section will serve to clothe the bare \

6 THEISM.

abstract idea of such a Cause in the attributes of power,
wisdom, and goodness reflected from the great leading
forms or facts of nature.

Having completed our inductive survey, we return, in a
third section, which we have entitled "Moral Intuitive
Evidence," to the region of Fkst Principles, and in this
region endeavour further to establish certain elements of the
theistic conception — viz.. Personality, Eighteousness, and
Infinity — without a special verification of which, every
theistic argument must, according to our view, utterly fail of
its purpose. Under this section of evidence we are led to
treat of the common a 'priori argument, and to assign to it its
distmctive value in the general plan of theistic speculation.

It may be inferred from what we have said that, while
our second section of Evidence corresponds to the common
treatment of the a posteriori argument, as exemplified in
Paley and the Bridgewater Treatises, both our first and third
sections deal simply with the elements of the a priori argu-
ment. And if any choose to apply the term a priori to the
discussions contained in these sections, it matters very little.
They really, however, embrace a course of reasoning to which
that term, in the restrictive sense in which it has been
applied to definite arguments for the existence of the Deity,
has no proper application.*

Upon any definite scheme of a priori argumentation,
involving a process of mere abstract deduction from some

* The term a priori is not, in fact, applied with any consistency even to
these arguments, some of the different forms of the Cartesian argument, and
that of Clarke especially, resting on an express datum of experience ; whereas
it is the pretension of a pure a priori argument to demonstrate the Divine
existence from the formal conceptions of the human mind.

INTRODUCTION. 7

single element of thought, or even of experience, it will be
seen in the sequel that we do not place any reliance. We are
as little inclined as those who have most zealously opposed
this sort of argumentation, to ascribe a convincing force to
it. So far we are at one with the general spirit of natural
theological inquiry which prevails in this country, as repre-
sented by such writers as Brown, Brougham, and Chalmers.
But, then, we consider that these writers, while rightly
repudiating the conclusiveness of a priori reasoning in re-
ference to our subject, have failed to set forth, and even to
apprehend with clearness and comprehensiveness, the subjec-
tive conditions, or, in our previous language, principles, which
their a posteriori argument at once presupposes as its essen-
tial basis, and demands in order to its complete and effective
validity. Now, it is simply the object of the first and third
section of this essay to determine and verify these conditions
or principles, which, as thus forming both the only adequate
foundation, and the culminating force of the general evidence
for the Divine existence and character, seem eminently in
the present day to claim the attention of the natural theo-
logian. The chain of induction goes up in unnumbered
links; but this chain rests at both points on principles of
intuitive belief, which must be thoroughly understood and
substantiated.

While, therefore, our third section receives a distinctive
name, and might, as a branch of theistic evidence, to some
extent stand by itself, we would yet have it to be viewed in
strict connection with the preceding sections ; in which con-
nection alone our general Evidence will be seen in its fully
conclusive bearing.

8 THEISM.

A fourth and concluding section is devoted, according to
our view of the terms of the subject, to a particular exami-
nation of the " difficulties regarding the wisdom and good-
ness of the Deity,'' as they derive any explanation from the
light of Nature, or finally from the disclosures of " written
Eevelation/'

Throughout the essay we have kept in view very pro-
minently the anti-theistic tendencies of our time, especially
as manifested in the form of Positivism. This seemed to
be demanded by the character of the essay, which, pre-
scribed at intervals of forty years, was probably designed to
meet the forms of speculative scepticism likely to arise at
such intervals. In the history of thought, forty years is a
wide period, during which great changes of opinion may be
expected to occur. And it is at least certain that, since the
date of the publication of the last essays on our subject, the
questions between the Christian Theist and the speculative
Sceptic, if, as they must ever be, essentially the same, have
yet assumed very changed aspects. Materialistic Pantheism,
in the shape of " Positive Philosophy,'' has especially assumed
a dignity and pretension which in some respects invest it
with a new character, and require a new and more compre-
hensive mode of treatment. Our essay throughout will be
found to bear the impress of this conviction.*

* Miss Martineau's recent translation of Comte's great work, and Mr G, H.
Lowes' popular exposition of Positivism (published as ono of the volumes of
Bolin's Scientific Library), give additional significance to tlio purpose that
animates our essay.

SECTION I

PEINCIPLES OF INDUCTIVE EVIDENCE

L_CHAPTEE I.

PEINCIPLES OF EVIDENCE.

The Theistic Evidence, in its common inductive form,
derives its logical force from certain principles implied in
its very conception. It is necessary, therefore, in entering
upon our subject, to determine these principles, and the
grounds on which they rest. The special necessity of such
an initial explanation and verification of principles, is
shown by the fact that it is in regard to them alone that
there remains any dispute. The question between the
Theist and the Anti-Theist — Pantheist or Atheist — neces-
sarily always resolves itself into one of this fundamental
character. It becomes a controversy, not as to the exist-
ence of certain phenomena in nature — whose existence is
really indisputable on either side — but as to the true
meaning or interpretation of these phenomena. And
especially is this the present aspect of the question, amid
the new stir which, from opposite quarters, has begun in
philosophical inquiry. We cannot therefore save our-
selves, even if we would, from taking up the speculative
discussions which lie across the threshold of our subject,

12 THEISM.

and endeavouring to establish our position securely on the
narrow platform of First Principles. In this way, besides,
we shall exhibit, better than in any other, the condensed
logical force of the Evidence, illustratively expanded in the
succeeding section. The theistic argument may be syllo-
gistically expressed as follows, in a form which appears to
us at once simple and free from ambiguity — viz.. First or
major premiss,

Order universally 2^roves Mind.
Second, or minor premiss.

The works of Nature discover Order.
Conclusion,

The luorks of Nature prove Mind.'^
It is of great importance to keep clear in the outset of
all ambiguous or misleading terms. And this conviction
has led us to reject from our syllogism such common ex-
pressions as not only " cause '' and " effect," but also

* Dr Reid long ago expressed the theistic argument in a syllogistic form,
as follows : " First, That design and intelligence in the cause may, with cer-
tainty, be inferred from marks or signs of it in the effect. This is the major
proposition of the argument. The second, which we call the minor proposi-
tion, is, That there are in fact the clearest marks of design and wisdom in the
works of nature ; and the conclusion is, That the works of nature are the
effects of a wise and intelligent Cause. One must either assent to the conclu-
sion, or deny one or other of the premises."

To this statement of the theistic syllogisrti, which, to say the least, is not
remarkable for precision, considerable exception has been taken by suc-
ceeding writers. Dr Crombie, in his work on Natural Theology, main-
tains that the syllogism of Reid is vicious in this respect, that in passing from
the major to the minor proi^osition, he tacitly carries over to the ''works of
nature " the conclusion suggested by the term " effect ;" while yet, according
to Dr Crombie, this is the very thing to be proved — viz., That the world is an
effect. He thus represents Reid's statement of the argument: "Marks of
design in the effect prove design in the cause. The works of natm'e are an
effect, and exhibit marks of design ; therefore the works of nature prove design

PEINCIPLES. 13

"design/' There will be abundant use in tlie sequel for
this latter expression in all its full and appropriate signifi-
cance, when we have established the great general doctrine
on which it rests — yiz., That Mind is everywhere the only-
valid explanation of Order — its necessary correlate.

It is this doctrine — the equivalent obviously of the major
premiss of our syllogism — which appears to us to present,
in its really valid and fundamental character, the theistic
problem. Essentially, it is neither more nor less than the
old doctrine of Final Causes ; but, for the reason already
stated, we prefer considering it in the mean time in a new
and untechnical form of expression.

Upon this fundamental position rests the whole burden
of the inductive theistic argument. If this position can
be established — if the right of Intelligence to stand every-
where as the correlate of Order can be made good —
the Pantheist or Positivist very well knows that, even

in the cause." Besides the invalid assumption which Dr Crombie maintains
is here introduced into the minor premiss, he objects, and we think with
perfect justice, to the mode in which the first proposition is stated, "marks
of design in the effect" being simply equivalent to " design in the cause."

The more general form in which we have put the syllogism in the text,
appears to us entirely to obviate these objections ; and especially to hberate
us from any such preliminary necessity as that of proving the world to be an
" effect." By putting out of view this term, and deahng simply with the fact
of order, we have already, according to the truth of om- first proposition,
Mind as its ca,use. It is not necessary that we show previously that the orderly
fact or phenomenon is an " effect," for this simple reason, that in its very
nature it is such. In virtue of its character — as manifesting order — it is already
declared a product or effect. This of course may be held equally tme on the
syllogistic basis of Reid ; and we do not therefore concur in this part of Dr
Crombie's criticism. Only by avoiding the use of the term " effect," we
obviate such an objection. Our mode of expression disencumbers the argu-
ment of an extraneous element of debate, and so far places the sceptical cavil
of Hiime simply beside the question.

14 THEISM.

accordino' to his own favomite mode of viewmo- nature as
a system of law or order, the theistic conclusion directly
follows. The fact of a supremely Intelligent Cause then
everywhere asserts itself The discoveries of science, in all
their rich variety, became only tributary witnesses to this
fact. Here, accordingly, the whole contest of Theism centres,
and finds its most vital struggle. And of this the opposite
school of thinkers are sufficiently aware. They clearly feel
that it is here alone that a consistent position of denial can
be taken up. The right of Mind to be held everywhere as
the correlate of Order, and so to stand at the head of nature,
is stoutly, and even scornfully, impugned by them. That
Mind is in man and animals the appropriate explana-
tion of many facts of order, is of course not denied ; but it
is expressly denied that it has any claim to be regarded as
the only true source, and final explanation, of all order.

We may seem to have put the theistic problem in a
somewhat unfamiliar form. But, while confessedly not the
form in which it has been usually discussed, it is neverthe-
less that in which, beyond all doubt, it most urgently presses
itself upon our attention. Even in the writings of Hume it
is this aspect of the question which suggests itself most power-
fully, and which gives the main point to his famous sceptical
reasoning — a fact which has not been sufficiently perceived.
Interest has been concentrated upon his ingenious attempt
to represent the world as a " singular effect,'' but without a
clear insight into the deeper principle by which he w^s led to
take up this ground, and which alone giv^ to it all its force.
If we can establish Mind as the universal correlate of order,

PRINCIPLES. 15

it must be manifest that there is no room for such a position
as that the world is a " singular effect/' The only question
is, Does the world discover order ? That Hume was perfectly
aware of this, and that the real and final question regarding
Theism related to the rightful claims and dignity of Mind, is so
abundantly plain in the course of his reasoning, that it seems
strange that it has not hitherto attracted more special exami-
nation. Even Dr Chalmers — who plainly enough saw that
the mode, adopted by Eeid and Stewart, of settling the
matter by at once declaring design to be an intuitive prin-
ciple of belief, was not all that was demanded against such
an opponent — does not seem to have penetrated to this
essential element of the subtlety which he manfully encoun-
ters. So far triumphant in his vindication of the theistic
inference, as resting on the same basis of experience as
any other inference from design, he does not yet reach,
and bring out fully, the ultimate rational truth on which
alone that inference, in the end, must rest.

To employ his own illustration, " If we can infer the
agency of design in a watchmaker, though we never saw a
watch made, we can, on the very same ground, infer the
agency of design on the part of a world-maker, though we
never saw a world made." All that is requisite to constitute
the inference valid in either case is not, as the sceptical
objection implied, experience with the actual production of
the special effects — with the making of a watch on the one
hand, or the making of a world on the other — but only with
the simple fact of adaptation on the one hand, and Mind as
its explanation on the other. This general form of experience

y

16 THEISM.

is the sufficiently warrantable basis of inference in either
case * But it must be plain, we think, that the result of
experience, generalise it as we may, can only be argumenta-
tively valid when seen to be a truth of reason — in other
words, when transformed into the position laid down in
our first premiss, viz. that adaptation or order universally
proves Mind. For otherwise we do not see how it would
avail to say that the " watch/' so far as our experience of its
production is concerned, is in the very same category as the
" world.'' The old objection would still recur, in this higher
form, exactly the opposite of the position we have laid down
— viz., that order (confessed in many cases to be the result
of mind) cannot yet be validly maintained, in all cases, to
flow only from Mind. No basis of experience simply can
warrant such a conclusion. Admitting the effects to be
similar, we are not thereby warranted in asserting that the
explanation of the human effect is the only valid explana-
tion of the universal effect. It can only be on grounds of
reason — on the basis not simply of experience, but of the
inherent laws of our rational constitution — that we can im-
pregnably take up such a position against the Anti-Theist.
iThis must, beyond doubt, come to be the final argumenta-
tive bearing of the question — which is thus really, when
pushed back to its last analysis, one not so much regarding
the world as a singular effect, as regarding Mind as a
sin2;ular cause.

How this appears in the writings of Hume as the really

* This is \'irtua]ly the import of Chahuers' amplified argument. See his
Natural Theology, pp. 150-15],

PRINCIPLES. 17

vital element of the question, is abundantly clear from the
following paragraphs : — *

" But can you think, Cleanthes, that your usual philosophy
has been preserved in so wide a step as you have taken,
when you compared to the universe houses, ships, furniture,
machines, and, from their similarity in some circumstances,
inferred a similarity in their causes? Thought, design,
intelligence, such as we discover in men and other animals,
is no more than one of the springs and principles of the
universe, as well as heat or cold, attraction or repulsion,
and a hundred others which fall under daily observation.
It is an active cause by which some particidar parts of
nature, we find, produce alterations on other parts. But
can a conclusion, with any propriety, he transferred from
parts to the whole ?"

" But, allowing that we were to take the operations of
one part of nature upon another for the foundation of our
judgment concerning the origin of the whole (which never
can be admitted), yet why select so minute, so weak, so
bounded a principle as the reason and design of animals is
found to be upon this planet ? What pecidiar privilege has
this little agitation of the brain, which we call thought, that
we must thus make it the model of the whole universe ? "

" Admirable conclusion ! Stone, wood, brick, iron, brass,
have not, at this time, in this minute globe of earth, an order
or arrangement without human art and contrivance ; there-
fore the universe could not originally attain its order and
arrangement without something similar to human art. But
* Dialogue concerning Natural Religion, Hume's Works, vol. ii. pp. 446, 448.

18 THEISM.

is a part of nature a rule for another part very wide of the
former ? Is it a rule for the whole ? Is a very small part
a rule for the universe?"

The real subject of dispute, then, on the old battle-ground
of Theism, which has descended to us, regards the valid
claim of Mind to stand universally as the Interpretation of
Order. And more eminently than ever, in the present day,
is this the vital point at issue. The views thrown out with
such an apparently heedless, yet far-reaching subtlety, by
Hume, have at length been taken up in a strictly scientific
form, and elaborated into a philosophical creed, which boasts
numerous and able advocates. Positivism, indeed, if spring-
ing directly from the irreverent soil of French scientific
culture, yet traces back its lineage to the Scottish sceptic, of
whose keen and arrogant genius it is so fitting a represen-
tative.

It is true that, in this modern sceptical system, the theo-
logical bearing of the views advocated is not always pro-
minently brought forward — sometimes rather simply passed
by, as beyond the concern of science. This is especially
the case with the writer who is, in this country, its
ablest and most systematic expositor. But in other cases
no opportunity is lost of bringing out this bearing in the
most decided manner ; and, even in the chief work of the
writer in question, it is so clear and immistakable that it is
impossible not to perceive, under the show of courtesy, the
deadly shafts levelled at the foundation of the theistic argu-
ment. This will be sufficiently apparent from the following
quotation, which condenses the result of a train of argument,

PEINCIPLES. 19

the object of which is to prove that what Mr Mill calls the
" Volitional Theory " * — meaning thereby the very truth
which we have laid down in our first proposition — is incom-
petent to stand as the only (ultimate) explanation of pheno-
mena in general. We present it, in the mean time, merely
in order that the antagonistic position with which we have
to deal may be seen in its full meaning and force.

" Though it were granted," he says,-|- " that every pheno-
menon has an efficient, and not merely a phenomenal cause,
and that volition, in the case of the peculiar phenomena
which are known to be produced by it, is that efficient
cause, are we, therefore, to say with these writers, that
since we know of no other efficient cause, and ought not to
assume one without evidence, there is no other, and volition
is the direct cause of all phenomena ? A more , outrageous
stretch of inference could hardly be made. Because among

* Mill's transposition of the Theistic Principle into a "Volitional Theory,"
is just one of the many instances in which the real import of the principle has
been obscured under a one-sided and wilfully perverted nomenclatm-e. It is
surely time that, in the search after truth, men should cease to be content to
escape from the pressure of an antagonistic doctrine, by hiding its highest
meaning under an easily degraded phraseology ! There is a further misrepre-
sentation conveyed by Mr Mill's language, which, although it will be after-
wards fully cleared up, it may be well to notice here, as tending to involve our
own position in some degree of doubt. He speaks of the writers, against whom
he argues, maintaining volition to be the "direct cause of all phenomena" —
a statement very readily suggesting a caricature of their true doctrine — which
does not for a moment deny the fact of physical causes, in Mr Mill's sense of that
term, but only that these causes, save as taking theu- rise in a Rational Will,
and forming an expression of such a Will, afford no satisfactory explanation
of the phenomena. It is not by any means as their direct or immediate cause
(in the sense of excluding physical causes — general laws), but only always
as their First or Original Cause, that Mind is spoken of as the explanation of
physical phenomena.

t Mill's Locjic^ vol. i. p. 371.

20 THEISM.

the infinite variety of the phenomena of nature there is one
— namely, a particular mode of action of certain nerves —
which has for its cause, and, as we are now supposing, for its
efficient cause, a state of our mind ; and because this is the
only efficient cause of which we are conscious, being the only
one of which, in the nature of the case, we can be conscious,
since it is the only one which exists within ourselves, — does
this justify us in concluding that all other phenomena must
have the same kind of efficient cause with that one eminently
special, narrow, and peculiarly human or animal pheno-
menon?"

In endeavouring to verify the position which forms the
argumentative basis of our Evidence, there are two special
lines of proof demanded of us — the one relating directly to
the position itself— that Order universally proves Mind, or,
in other words, that Design is a principle pervading the
universe ; and the other relating to a doctrine which, as it
appears to us, lies everywhere involved in the more special
theological principle. This principle, in the form announced
in our first proposition, undoubtedly implies a definite doc-
trine of causation. In asserting the principle of design, we
clearly assert, at the same time, that Mind alone answers to
our true, or at least ultimate, idea of cause. We pronounce
causation, or at least our highest conception of it, to imply
efficiency. But does it really do so ? We find ourselves met
on this general philosophical ground as to the true nature of
causation, as well as on the ground of the special theological
application which we make of the general truth. They who
dispute the theistic interpretation of nature, no less dispute

PRINCIPLES. 21

the doctrine of efficient causation, and in fact base tlieir
opposition to the higher principle on this lower and wider
ground.

In order, therefore, fully to sustain our position, we must
make it good on this lower ground. According to our whole
view, the one position is untenable apart from the other.
The two doctrines of final causes and of efficient causation
we regard as essentially related. They are not to us,
indeed, separate doctrines, but only separate phases of
the same fundamental necessity of our rational nature : the
relation of the two is not that of dependency — the one
upon the other — but of intricacy — the one in the other ;
for while the theological principle virtually asserts the
philosophical, the latter, in its highest conception, already
implicitly contains the former.

It is very true that many theistic thinkers, and eminently
among ourselves Dr Chalmers,* have not recognised this in-
terchangeable relation between the general doctrine of cau-
sation and the special theological doctrine. But a fact of
this sort has no farther claim to our consideration, than to
lead us to ponder more thoroughly the grounds of our own
conviction ; and the more this is done, the more, we feel
confident, will the view set forth in the following pages
approve itself as the only sound and comprehensive one.

* Natural Theology, vol. i. pp. 121-161,

22 THEISM.

S L— CHAPTEK 11.

DOCTEINE OF CAUSATION.

Theee have been few if any questions in Philosophy more
thoroughly discussed than that of causation. Especially
since the sceptical genius of Hume carried its pitiless search
into the foundations of the prevailing philosophy of his day,
and exposed its genuine logical consequences, has speculative
discussion gathered round this point as a centre, and found
unceasing life in it. It appears to us that at length the
ground may be said to be pretty well cleared, if not for a
settlement of the question, yet for a definite truce regarding
it. Por it has become clearly apparent that the combatants,
on one side at least, contend, not so much in direct opposi-
tion to the view held on the other side, as for a further and
higher view in addition. The two classes of thinkers are
indeed fundamentally opposed, but they are not throughout
opposed. Por the one class only insists on carrying uj) the
position of the other into a higher, and, as they think, more
comprehensive Truth than the other will admit. The one
feels impelled to look beyond the mere physical view, and to

DOCTEINE OF CAUSATION. 23

find everywhere in Nature a further and more sacred MEAN-
ING than the other is content to accept.

It is no longer, for example, disputed by any school of phi-
losophy, that all we perceive of the relation between physical
phenomena is a relation of successio7i. " It is now univer-
sally admitted that we have no percej^tion of the causal nexus
in the material world.'' * The writings of Hume and of
Brown, and again of Mill in our own day, have been so far
successful in making this plain beyond doubt, and exposing,
in its precise form, the bearing of the question between them
and the opposite school of thinkers. We see events follow-
ing events in regular succession. All that we really see and
apprehend is the succession. " The impulse of one billiard
ball is attended with motion in the second. This is the
whole that appears to the outward senses.^'f But is this
perception of sequence commensurate with our notion of
causation ? Is it what we specially mean when we express
the relation of cause and effect ? If the measure of our ex-
perience be the measure of our conception, why is it that we
do not apply the one universally to the objects of the other?
To take the often repeated illustration of the relation between
day and night. This we apprehend as an invariable succes-
sion. Yet we never understand nor speak of day as the
cause of night, or the reverse. It must be admitted, then,
that our empirical apprehension is at least not commensurate
with our causal judgment. And this is in fact admitted by
Mr Mill in reference to this very relation, and the " very

* Sir W. Hamilton's Discussions, ApiDenclix, p. 587.
t Hume's Works, vol. ii. p. 74.

24 THEISM.

specious objection" which he acknowledges has been often
founded upon it, against his view of the subject. " When
we define/' he says,* " the cause of anything to be ' the
antecedent, which it invariably follows,' we do not use
this phrase as exactly synonymous with 'the antecedent
which it invariably has followed in our past experience/
Such a mode of conceiving causation would be liable to
the objection veiy plausibly urged by Dr Eeid — namely,
that, according to this doctrine, night must be the cause
of day, and day the cause of night ; since these phenomena
have invariably succeeded one another from the beginning
of the world. But it is necessary to our using the word
cause, that we should believe not only that the antecedent
always has been followed by the consequent, but that, as
long as the present constitution of things endures, it
always will be so, and this would not be true of day and
night."

The concession forced upon Mr Mill, and expressed in
this passage is, we cannot help thinking, remarkable. It
is here clearly admitted, that the measui*e of our observa-
tional experience is not the measure of the idea of causation,
even as held by him. It is not the perception of uniform suc-
cession merely, but a certain belief regarding the succes-
sion, which specially determines it to be a relation of cause
and effect. But what do the opponents of a mere sensational
philosophy everywhere contend for, but just the admission of
such an element of belief, as the determining element of the
idea of causation ? The belief, no doubt, is with them

* Mill's Logic, vol. i. p. 350.

DOCTEINE OF CAUSATION. 25

of a very different character, and arises in a very diffe-
rent manner from that represented by Mr Mill ; but it is
significant how, in the most earnest effort which has been
made in our time to resolve the idea of causation into that of
mere antecedence and consequence, there should be allowed
to enter an element of belief which is confessedly not gene-
rated by our mere observation of sequence. The sequence,
besides being invariable, or, in other words, uniformly ob-
served, Mr Mill says must be unconditional ; and day and
night is not a sequence of this character. " We do not be-
lieve that night will be followed by day under all imaginable
circumstances, but only that it will be so, provided the sun
rises above the horizon." According to this view, before we
can pronounce any two phenomena to be in the relation of
cause and effect, we must not only have observed the fact of
their invariable association, but we must know that, accord-
ing to the " present constitution of things,''* they always
will be associated. We must understand the conditions of

* There seems to be an inaccuracy and misapplication of language here,
singular in a writer generally so clear-sighted and accurate as Mr Mill. For
surely the regular rising of the sun above the horizon, or, in other words, the
diurnal revolution of the earth, is, if anything can be said to be so, a jDart of
" the present constitution of things." According to this " constitution," then, it
may be said to be truly known that uight will always be followed by day. The
terms of this sequence, even on his own interpretation, are therefoi-e uncondi-
tional, and yet we do not regard them as cause and effect.

We can, no doubt, conceive the sun not to rise above the horizon, com-
patibly with the "general laws of matter," a phrase b)'- which Mr Mill makes
his meaning more distinct and unequivocal. But, in the first place, the " ge-
neral laws of matter," while they MAY be conceived by us aj^art from such a
special result of their operation, can yet be only said to be really known to lis
in their varied actual results, apart from which they are simply abstractions ;
nonentities, on a mere physical view of things ; and, in the second place, we
can as easily conceive, it appears to us, the general laws of matter themselves

C

26 THEISM.

the sequence so tlioroughly, as to compreliend whether they
form a part of " the general laws of matter/' before we can
rightly pronounce the one term of the sequence to be the
cause of the other.

But if it were not already apparent in the outset of Mr
Mill's discussion, this conclusion Avere enough to show that
the subject with which he concerns himself, under the name
of causation, and that which is commonly meant under that
name, and in our view is alone entitled to it, are quite
different. While, under this name, he really speaks of the
order which, according to the " general laws of matter,''
obtains among the phenomena of nature — the "invariable
and unconditional" dependence which, in virtue of these
laws, subsists among physical sequences — the intellectual
common sense, by causation, does not mean to express any-
thing of this sort. It does not concern itself with the
special conditions under which phenomena emerge, so as to
determine their invariable and unconditional antecedents (in
Mr Mill's language, their causes) ; but on the emergence of
any phenomenon, the appearance of any change, it simply
says that it is caused; meaning by this, that the change
does not originate in itself, but in something else. It says
this wholly irrespective of the special sources or conditions

to cease, or be entirely changed. The unconditionalness, therefore, which he
considers to attach to them, and which he beheves a " distinction of first-rate
importance for clearing up the notion of Cause," does not seem, even in their
case, to be available to any further extent than in reference to the constant
oxi^erience respecting day and night. The fact is, as shown in the text, that
the constant succession of day and night is not regarded in the light of cause
and effect, simply because it is not succession, but something else, and quite
distinct, with which the mind, directly and initially, concerns itself in pro-
nouncing this relation.

DOCTRINE OF CAUSATION. 27

of the change ; and says it equally, although it should
never learn anything of these sources or conditions. It
pronounces, in short, not what is the relation among
observed phenomena, but only that all phenomena, whether
lying within the sphere of our observation or not, are
related. Springing from even a single basis of experience,
this judgment goes forth without hesitation into the whole
world of reality, and everywhere proclaims its validity ; and
it is this judgment which constitutes to the common sense
the doctrine of causation.

It is of importance to understand what is the real diffe-
rence which thus exists between sensationalists of the
school of Hume and Mill, and those who contend for a
deeper meaning in causation than they aUow. Artfully
shifting the question of causation into the domain of
physical observation, they come, in fact, to treat of some-
thing quite special, which, under whatever protestations,
they in the end assume to be the whole matter, so
far as it has any intelligible relation to the human
mind. Mr Mill, for example, while declaring that he is " in
no way concerned '' in the question of efficient causes,
and that he simply passes it by, has no sooner laid
down his own "law of causation,'' than he turns to con-
template in its light the doctrine of causation as commonly
understood, and on the strength of his own princij^les to
engage in an elaborate refutation of this doctrine. Now, this
does not seem to us to be really the fairest way of dealing
with a subject of so much importance. To profess to have
in view simply the discussion of physical causes and effects

28 THEISM.

—as to the relation of wliicli there is really no dispute— and
yet to pass over from this to the truth of causation as a
principle of human knowledge, can only tend to mislead^the
reader, and embroil still farther the metaphysical contro-
versy which Mr Mill is desirous of avoiding. The Positiv-
ist must either abide in the domain of physical phenomena
— where none deny that all which comes directly within the
sphere of human knowledge is mere antecedence and conse-
quence— or he must be prepared to take up the general fact
of causation, as it reveals itself in the common intellectual
consciousness, and show it to be coincident in import with
the law of mere succession. It is on this ground of common
belief that the question must be discussed. We have already
so far seen what this belief signifies. Let us still more pre-
cisely fix its import.

When, on the appearance of any change, we instinctively
pronounce it to have a cause, what do we really mean ? Do
we affirm merely that some other thing has gone before the
observed phenomenon ? Is priority the constitutive element
of our intellectual judgment ? Is it not rather something
quite different ? Is not our judgment characteristically to
this effect— that some other thing has not only preceded
but produced the change we contemplate ? Nay, is it not
this element of production that we peculiarly mean to
express in the use of the term " cause " ? Succession is no
doubt also involved, but it is not the relation of succession
with which the mind, in the supposed judgment, is directly
and initially concerned, but rather the relation of power.
That when we speak of cause and effect, we express merely

DOCTKINE OF CAUSATION. 29

tlie relation of conjunction between phenomena of ante-
cedence and consequence in any defined sense, is something
of wMcli no ingenuity of sopliistry will ever be able to per-
suade the common mind. It matters not in the least degree
that it can be so clearly proved that nothmg intervenes
between the simple facts observed, that all we see is the
sequence of the phenomena. This is not in dispute. Only,
the intellectual common sense insists on recognising a deeper
relation among phenomena than mere sequence. It accepts
the order of succession, which it is the special function of
Science to trace everywhere to its most general expression ;
but it moreover says of this order, that it is throughout
produced, or, in other words, that it is only explicable as
involving a further element of power. That this is really
the import of the intellectual judgment which we pronounce
in speaking of cause and effect — to which the very words
themselves testify in an unmistakable manner — is so clear,
that it is now admitted by every school of philosophy which
does not rest on a basis of materialism, and has even been
conceded by writers of this school, however iiTCSolvable on
their principles.*

Causation, therefore, implies power. What we mean by
a cause is something quite different from a mere ante-
cedent, however we may define the conditions of its relation
to the consequent. It is peculiarly an Agent.

But in order to see this more fully, it will be neces-
sary to consider whence we have the idea of power, which
we have seen to constitute the main element of causation.

* See Lewes' Biograpldcal History of Philosojihj, vol. iv. p. 47, seg^.

30 THEISM.

That this idea is not derived from without — that it does not
come through any phase of sensational experience — is already
clear in the fact admitted on all hands, that we only perceive
succession — that we are only conversant, through the senses,
with the two terms of a sequence. But if not from without,
it must be from within ; we must have the idea of power
given us in our own mental experience. This we hold to
be the fact ; and recent psychological analysis has pretty
sufficiently explained the more special origin of this prime
intellectual element. It flows from the depths of our sehf-
consciousness ; or, more truly speaking, it is nothing else
than the ideal projection of our self-consciousness. With
the first dawn of mind we apprehend ourselves as distinct
from the objective phenomena surrounding us ; the Ego
emerges, face to face, with the non-Ego. And in this spring-
ing forth of self, so far back in the mental history as to elude
all trace, is primarily given the idea of power.

Wliat is commonly called the Will, therefore, is, according
to this view, the ultimate source or fountain of the notion of
causation. We apprehend ourselves as agents, and in this
apprehension we have already, in the fullest sense, the idea
of cause. Had we not this apprehension, it seems impos-
sible that we could have ever risen above sequence, as the
obvious fact given us in outward observation. With this
apprehension lying at the very root of our being, and con-
stituting it essentially, it is equally impossible that we can
hold by that fact as furnishing the exhaustive conception
of the Universe. According to the radical and imperative
character of our mental constitution, we must recognise a

DOCTEINE OF CAUSATION. 31

deeper life than mere sequence, however grand and orderly,
in the phenomena of nature ; and this deeper life is just
what we mean by a cause. Not sequency, therefore, but
agency, or, in other words, efficiency, is the attribute com-
mensurate with our notion of causation.

The question before us then really passes into the old one
as to the origin of our knowledge. Let it only be admitted
that our knowledge is the product of a spiritual as well as
a material factor, and then it is quite beside the question
to argue that because cause, according to our interpre-
tation of it, is not given in external nature, the notion
of it is not a valid and real portion of human know-
ledge ; on the very contrary, it becomes, in such a case,
only an obvious and expected conclusion that we should
find more in outward phenomena than they, so to speak,
contain. The subjective brings its element of knowledge as
well as the objective ; and it is not merely what we appre-
hend by the senses, but what, through the whole mental
life awakened in us by the original contact of subject and
object, spirit and matter, we intuitively know or believe to
be the truth — that we must hold as the truth. The only
available argument against this position — save on a basis of
pure materialism — would be to dispute the reality of any
such primitive mental experience as we have asserted — the
fact of that consciousness of agency, which we have assumed
as indisputable.

It is of great importance that the view wdiich we have
thus endeavoured to set forth should be comprehended in its
precise import, with reference both to certain objections

32 THEISM.

■which have been urged against it, and to the final conclusion
to which it seems to us to lead. It will be observed that
we trace the idea of causation, in its primitive origin, to
our self - consciousness, our apprehension of ourselves as
distinct activities, not carried away in, but exercising a
reaction upon, the flow of physical sequences. This appre-
hension, in its most obscure form, involves what has been
specially called the Will. The apprehension of ourselves is
and can be nothing else than the apprehension of our per-
sonal voluntary activity. In its most mature and developed
form this apprehension becomes what is called the conscious-
ness of free \\ill. The causal idea, however, is not dependent
on any particular manifestations of this highest form of our
activity. It is already present in its dawn in our primitive
self-consciousness. It awakens side by side with the Ego ; and
is therefore truly, as M. Cousin calls it, the " primary idea."
The clear perception of this will clear away some diffi-
culties from the view exhibited. It has been represented,
for example, as if the advocates of the theory of efficient
causation held the notion to be given altogether independ-
ently of experience in the very conception of voluntary
action, apart from its exercise. They have been held as
maintaining that the " feeling of energy or force inherent in
an act of will is knowledge a priori ; assurance prior to
experience that we have the power of causing effects.'' *
But, so far as we understand this statement at all, it seems
to us to imply something which could not well be delibe-
rately maintained by any one, however an incautious use of

* Mill's Logic, vol. i. p. 360.

DOCTRINE OF CAUSATION. 33

expressions may have led the writer to suppose so. It im-
plies something, certainly, which we are so far from main-
taining, that it appears to us to be simply absurd and
inconceivable. To speak of any mental possession as prior
to or independent of experience, in the right and comprehen-
sive meaning of that term, is to speak of something which,
in the nature of things, is impossible. Our consciousness
only comes into being under experience -conditions. All
our mental life only arises under them ; and of what it
would be or contain apart from them, we can have no con-
ception. Of an "assurance prior to experience, that we
have the power of causing effects,'' we therefore know
nothing. Experience is already present in the first act of
consciousness, and our idea of cause flows from the primitive
awakening of consciousness under the contact of experience.
It is already given in the primary apprehension of our per-
sonal existence. It may, therefore, certainly be held before
the mind apart from special results ; but apart from voluntary
activity, as such, and in a true sense, it is inconceivable.

Again, with reference to a special objection of more
importance, the view we have presented seems to render it
inapplicable. The objection in question deserves examina-
tion, as having been taken up by Sir W. Hamilton, and
urged by him against our doctrine. The weakness, however,
which Sir William assails successfully, does not lie in the
doctrine itself, but only in the special statement of it which
is the subject of his criticism. This statement is that of a
distinguished French philosopher, M. de Biran, who has cer-
tainly the eminent merit of having, in the most elaborate

34 THEISM.

maimer, fixed attention on the theory of causation under
discussion. It is to this effect : " I Tnll to move my arm,
and I move it/' This complex fact gives us on analysis :
1, The consciousness of an act of will ; 2, The consciousness
of motion produced ; 3, The consciousness of a relation of
the motion to the yolition. This relation is in no respect
a simple relation of succession. The motion not merely fol-
lows our will, or appears in conjunction with it, but it is
consciously produced by it. The idea of power or cause is
thus evolved. Sir W. Hamilton objects to the theory thus
laid down, that the empuical fact on which it is founded is
incorrect. " For," he says,* " between the overt fact of cor-
poreal movement, which we perceive, and the internal act
of the will to move, of which we are self-conscious, there
intervenes a series of intermediate agencies, of which we are
wholly unaware ; consequently, we can have no conscious-
ness, as this hypothesis maintains, of any causal connection
between the extreme links of this chain — that is, between
the volition to move and the arm moving/' The same objec-
tion to the general doctrine is hinted at by Mr Mill,-|- and
stated fully, and with all his usual ingenuity, by Himie, in
his famous chapter on the idea of " necessary connection.''

Now, it is not to be disputed that the point upon which this
objection rests is indubitable — viz., that it is only through
the intermediate agencies of the nerves and muscles that the
act of volition goes forth in corporeal movement. Volitions
produce ner^'ous action, and this action again expresses itself

* Phil. Discussions, Appendix, p. 5SS.
t Logic, pp. 361, 371.

DOCTEINE OF CAUSATION. 35

in outward movement. We have not, therefore, and cannot
have, any proper consciousness of this movement. The volition
or act of will itself is all of which we are properly conscious.
But in this act, as we conceive, we have already sufficient basis
for our theory. For what is this simple movement of the will
but the Ego expressing itself ? And in this original act of
self-expression we have already, according to our view, the
idea of cause. Will it be said that, apart from resultant
motion or special activity, we could have no evidence of such
self-expression? It may be readily granted that, had we pos-
sessed no experience of volition passing into activity ; had, in
truth, the present constitution of things been entirely different
from what it is — for this is really what is asserted, — in such
a supposed case there is no certainty that we could have had
such evidence, or that — which is the same thino- — volition
could have been to us any longer a fact. We cannot tell ;
we have simply again to reply that we pretend to no ele-
ments of knowledge apart from experience in the sense here
intended. All we know is, and can be, only known to us
within the conditions of our actual being ; in other words,
within the sphere of experience. What we might or might
not have kno^vn out of this sphere, it is utterly idle to con-
jecture, as we cannot, in the nature of the case, transcend it,
and survey ourselves from a point above it. Thus, in the pre-
sent case, the sense of will or power is to us a fact, given in the
first dawn of self-consciousness, and repeated in every moment
of self-consciousness. It is implied in every forth-putting
of our being. It lies at its root, and our whole mental
life is only a continual passing of it into activity. That

^

36 THEISM.

which is sjDecially called the Will is, as already represented,
implicitly contained in this original affirmation of self, in
which all our knowledge begins. Special acts of freedom are
merely special manifestations of a power quickened in us, or,
more truly, which constitutes lis {the Me) from the first. It
is by no means necessary, therefore, that we should be
directly conscious of corporeal movement, as the special
result of an act of volition, in the sense set forth by M. de
Biran, and questioned by Sir W. Hamilton and others,
before we can attain the idea of cause. This idea emerges
far more deeply in our spiritual life than is thus implied,
and is quite independent of such special realisations as are
here connected with it.

Let us review, then, the conclusion at which we have
arrived ; the meaning of causation as thus determined.
A cause we have found to be truly coincident with an
agent; to have its primitive type in the Ego, the living
root of our being ; and to be specially represented in that
which constitutes the highest expression of our being, Free
Will. A cause, therefore, implies Mind. More definitely,
and in its full conception, it implies a rational will.

Let this conclusion be fairly pondered, and it will be
found to sustain itself irrefragably. The Ego, which in its
first dawn and highest life alone gives us the idea of cause,
is simply the rational being which we call by the name of
Mind. It is this being, no doubt, apprehended predomi-
nantly on the side of activity. But this activity, apart from
the reason in which it inheres, and which it expresses, is
nothing. We can never subtract the one element and leave

DOCTEINE OF CAUSATION. 37

the other. We have been in the habit, indeed, of speaking
of different mental faculties ; but the mind is really one, and
not a separable congeries of powers. Free will is and can
be nothing else, therefore, than the highest or consummate
expression of our rational being or mind ; and a rational
will the only fully answering idea to that of Cause. The one
idea is the only commensurate of the other. The latter only
exhausts itself, and finds rest, in the former.

We will now be able to understand the true character of
the causation which we apprehend in nature. In the light
of our spiritual consciousness, we everywhere perceive in
nature a deeper meaning than it contains. We apprehend
a Hving power in its continual flow. This is the general
expression of what reason demands. It never stops short
of this. But already it contains a higher and more explicit
truth. Already, in its lowest indications, it points to one
original, comprehending Will. The savage or childish appre-
hension of nature, as animated in its different movements
by separate voluntary agents like ourselves,* is a mere dim
and temporary expression of the rational necessity which
knows no satisfaction till, driven upwards, it rests in the idea
of one all-pervading Power — an Ultimate Cause.

According to this whole view, there is no such thing as
mere physical causation. What is so denominated is of
course a reality ; but inasmuch as it is only in virtue of our
spiritual life that we coidd ever find a cause in nature,
this term is truly inapplicable to physical phenomena per
se: nature cannot give what it does not contain. Physical

* Cousin On Locke, p. 166 : Ed. Didier ; Paris, 1847.

38 THEISM.

causes, apart from the idea of a will in which they originate,
and which they manifest, have no meaning. Remove the
one idea, and the other disappears. It is assuredly only in
the reflection of a Power beyond them, and in which they
are contained, that such causes are or can be to us anything
but antecedent phenomena. It is only as the expression of
such a Will or Power that the physical order of the universe
is recognised as caused. And this recognition is truly in-
eradicable and necessary ; in no way afiected by the dis-
coveries of science ; still asserting itself by the side of the
most extended of these discoveries. Let science expose the
domain of physical order as it may. Will is still present as
its implicate and only explanation. And this Will, according
to what we have already said, is no mere naked potentiality.
We know nothing of Will apart from Reason ; the one is to
us merely the peculiarly active^ the other the peculiarly
intelligent, side of the same spiritual energy. They unite
and form one in what we comprehensively call Mind, which
we therefore recognise as the only adequate source and
explanation of the universe.

It will be observed that we have confined ourselves to the
fact of causation — what it implies. Our aim has been to
find a true and final explanation of what we mean by a
" cause.'' The principle of causality, in its characteristic of
irresistibleness and necessity, has been rather assumed than
dealt with : and rightly so ; for the principle, under one
form of explanation or another, cannot be said to be in dis-
pute. The real and important subject of dispute is unques-
tionably what the principle — admitted to be one which con-

DOCTRINE OF CAUSATION. 39

ditions human Intelligence— involves. What is its import ?
Does it lead us upwards merely from one link of sequences
to another ; or does it necessitate our finding, in all sequences,
a higher element in which alone they inhere? Is Cause, in
short, Antecedence or Power .? This is the essential question,
and it is this to which we have endeavoured to give an
answer.

40 THEISM.

§L_CHAPTEK III.

DOCTRINE OF FINAL CAUSES.

The conclusion of the preceding chapter already clearly-
pointed to what we mean by the doctrine of Final Causes.
The idea of causation we found to resolve itself into that
of the operation of a rational will or mind in nature ; and
this operation, looked at deductively from a theological point
of view, is neither more nor less than the doctrine before us.
But while thus implicitly given in our previous argument,
this doctrine, in its distinctive form, deserves from us a
further and more attentive consideration. It deserves this
especially, on account of the obscurity and misrepresentations
in which it has been involved.

There is no doctrine which has been more misunderstood.
Tlie scientific applications of it have been confounded with
its genuine theological import, and abuses resulting from the
former perversely passed over to the discredit of the latter.
Wliat it really signifies, what is the comprehensive mean-
ino- in which the doctrine must be held, if it is to be held at
all ; has been often as little understood by its supporters as
by its opponents.

DOCTEINE OF FINAL CAUSES. 41

The notion of Final Causes, for example, is frequently
represented as if limited to organic or physiological pheno-
mena. In a purely scientific relation, viewed as a method
of scientific discovery, it may be rightly so limited ; although,
even in this respect, it seems only an absurd perversion of
the doctrine, and not the doctrine itself, which can be truly
held as an invalid guide of inquiry in any department of
nature. It is only the confusion of its genuine meaning
with an impertinent and barren curiosity, — the very oppo-
site of its inquiring and reverent gaze, — which can render it
abusively applicable to any order of phenomena* But
certainly, whatever view may be held on this point, there
cannot remain any doubt in the minds of those who really
understand the doctrine, that, in its higher theological mean-
ing and relation, it is equally applicable to all orders of
phenomena, organic and inorganic. It is true that, even in
this higher relation, the doctrine has been especially applied
to the organic products of creation, so that the argument
from Design or Final Causes is probably interpreted by
many, if not most minds, with exclusive reference to these
products, — the wonderful structures of the vegetable and
animal kingdom. But this has simply arisen from tlie fact,
that design is capable of being more conspicuously traced
in these structures, than in the more general and comprehen-
sive phenomena presented to us by the inorganic kingdom.
Assuredly it wiU not for a moment bear to be affirmed that

* This is the simple explanation of Lord Bacon's frequently-quoted dispa-
ragement of Final Causes. It was not the doctrine itself, in any true sense
of it, but only the scholastic abuse of it, that he condemned.

D

42 THEISM.

the principle of design, rightly apprehended in the funda-
mental form in which alone it concerns the theistic argu-
ment, has any real application to the one class of phenomena
which it has not to the other. It may have, in the one case,
a more manifest application, and one, therefore, more effective
for purposes of popular argumentation; but, beyond all
question, there are no logical grounds on which the prin-
ciple can sustain itself in the one case and not in the other.
These grounds are equally valid or invalid in both cases.
Supposing we admit them, design, the operation of Mind,
is everywhere recognised in nature. Supposing we reject
them, every such conception as that of " design,'' or " final
cause,'' " end " or " purpose," disappears from nature.*

Let us then look still more closely at these grounds, that
we may be thoroughly satisfied of their validity. Wliy is it
that we apprehend everywhere in phenomena of order the
operation of a rational will or mind ? Simply because we
cannot help doing so ; because the laws of our rational

* The different modifications of the doctrine of Final Causes form a very
interesting subject, were we reviewing the doctrine historically, instead of
expounding the right view of it. The double relation of the doctrine has of
course attracted attention, yet without any definite effort, so far as we are
aware, to bring into clear harmony the more general doctrine, and the special
form in which it has been applied in physiology. Boyle and Stewart both
point to the respective theological and scientific uses of the doctrine, but they do
not expound the relation of the latter to the former, which is all-important
both for the interests of theology, and the validity of the equally disputed
scientific principle. Nor do they concern themselves with the consideration
of the more general and the more sj^ecial form in which, even in a purely theolo-
gical point of view, the doctrine admits of being apprehended and applied.
Any obscurity that may seem to rest on these respective bearings of the doc-
trine is, we trust, sufiiciently cleared up in the coui-se of our discussion, and
especially in a subsequent cliapter, where the peculiar significance of the
action of design in organic phenomena receives attention.

DOCTEINE OF FINAL CAUSES. 43

being comjoel us to do so. These will not permit us to rest
short of Mind as an ultimate explanation of such phenomena.
The theistic position, therefore, is based on an inherent
rational necessity. ,We do not know where it could be so
strongly based. We do not know, indeed, where else it
could be based.

But this strong foundation is not conceded to us with-
out controversy. How plainly the right and dignity thus
claimed for Mind are repudiated by a certain school of
thinkers, we have already seen ; and the special arguments
by which our position has been assailed by the same able
writer with whom we have already engaged, and who so
eminently, in the present day, represents the school in Eng-
land, certainly deserve examination. These arguments no
doubt originate in a fundamental opposition of philosophical
principle, to which the discussion must always at length be
driven back, and to which we might, therefore, confine our-
selves ; this opposition being neither more nor less than
the old one of Spiritualism and Empiricism, Platonism and
Epicureanism. Yet it may serve in some respects to
strengthen our ground and elucidate the truth, to examine
the more special reasoning of Mr Mill.

It is wholly denied by this writer that the tendency to find
Mind everywhere in nature rests on an ineradicable necessity
of reason. This is simply " the instinctive philosophy of the
human mind in its earliest stage, before it has become fami-
liar with any other invariable sequences than those between
its own volitions and its voluntary acts." * . . . " Sequences

* Logic, vol. i. p. 365 ; second edition.

44 THEISM.

entirely physical and material, as soon as they had become
sufficiently familiar to the human mind, came to be
thought perfectly natural, and were regarded not only as
needing no explanation, but as being capable of affording it
to others, and even of serving as the ultimate explanation of
thino-s in general/' * And, as illustrations of this, are
instanced the early Greek philosophers, some of whom held
that Moisture, and others that Air, was the universal
cause. These are brought forward as examples to show that
mankind, so far from regarding the action of matter upon
matter as inconceivable, have even rested satisfied with
some material element as a final principle of explanation.
Others — and he mentions Leibnitz and the Cartesians — are
also stated to have been so little of our way of thinking, that
they found the " action of mind upon matter to be itself the
grand inconceivability," to get over which they were forced
to invent their respective theories of Pre-established Har-
mony and Occasional Causes. On the case of the Carte-
sians he dwells particularly — according to whose system, he
says, " God is the only efficient cause, not qua mind, or qud
endowed with volition, but qud omnipotent.'' -f-

The best way of approaching the strength of our argu-
ment will be through these supposed illustrations of the
adverse position. In the two latter instances, the real
point at issue is certainly to some extent mistaken. The
ground of discussion is at least so shifted as to draw
off attention from that point. In speaking, for example,
of the action of matter upon matter, and again of that

* Lorjic, vol. i. p. 3G6. f Hid., p. 369.

DOCTEINE OF FINAL CAUSES. 45

of miiid upon matter, the special idea suggested is clearly
as to the mode of action in the one case and the other,
as if the real point were the conceivableness of this mode
in the respective cases. But this is not in any sense the
true question. The Theist does not profess to compre-
hend or explain the difficulty thus suggested. The mode of
action of mind upon matter, or indeed the mode of connection
between matter and matter, is acknowledged to be wholly
inscrutable. The point in dispute is simply the fact of action
or efficiency at all. In the one case — that is to say, when we
apprehend Mind as the cause of phenomena — we are satisfied
with this apprehension, not because we understand hoiu Mind
is the cause — or, in other words, how it acts upon matter —
but simply because we know, in our own experience, that it
does so act. We rest in Mind as a source and explanation of
action generally, just because it is to us all this, and we
know of nothing else that is this.

It is true that Leibnitz and the Cartesians did not regard
the human mind in this light. Denying, as they did, finite
efficiency, they could not, of course, rest in it as an explan-
ation of action, any more than they could hold one physical
element or event to be an explanation of another. Within
the sphere of finite existence they did not recognise' any
efficiency ; and hence the theory of Pre-established Harmony
on the one hand, and that of Occasional Causes on the other,
to account for the connection between finite spirit and matter.
But so far was either Leibnitz or the Cartesians from
denying the fact of efficiency as applied to the Divine Being,
that it was just this fact they called in to solve the absurd

46 THEISM.

difficulty in wliicli they had involved themselves. They
could not conceive the action of finite mind upon matter.
The fact was not enough for them ; but they must under-
stand it logically ; and, being unable so to understand it,
they arbitrarily called in the Divine efficiency to explain it.
In the case of the Cartesians this is clearly admitted by Mr
Mill ; and it is undeniable in both cases, whatever may be
said to the contrary.*

It does not seem, therefore, that the views of these philo-
sophers, in their true and comprehensive sense, avail much
for Mr Mill's position. It is, indeed, admitted that they did
not recognise the fact of limited efficiency in the human
mind, from which we rise argumentatively to the fact of the
Divine efficiency, and that in their respective philosophies,
accordingly, they did not leave any rational basis for Theism.
We willingly abandon them as consistent theistic thinkers.
Yet they were so far from resting short of the theistic con-
clusion— the conclusion of a Supreme Mind efficiently con-
nected with things in general — that their resj)ective theories
rest expressly on the supposition of Divine efficiency. Mr
Mill's refinement as to the Divine efficiency being appre-

* See {Logic, vol. i. p. 368) Mr Mill's strange attempt to prove that Leibnitz
denied the ultimate adequacy of the Divine efficiency to account for things in
general. Nothing could be fax'ther from the true thought of Leibnitz. He
merely says that he cannot conceive this efficiency working save in certain
ways. The fact of the Divine efficiency is not in question, but only the mode
of its working. The following are the words of Leibnitz, quoted and emphasized
by Mr Mill : ''Si Dieu dounait cette loi, par exemple, 4 un cori3s libre, de
tourner 4 I'entour d'un certain centre, il faudrait ou qu'il y joignit d'autres
coi-ps qui par leur impulsion I'obligeassent do roster toujours dans son orbite
circulaire, ou qu'il mit im ange 4 ses trousses, ou enfin il faudrait qu'il y con-
couriU extraordinairement ; car naturelloment il s'ecarterapar la tangente." —
Leibnitz's Works, iii. 446 : Ed. Dutens.

DOCTEINE OF FINAL CAUSES. 47

bended, not qiid mind or qua volition, but qua omnipotence
— even if we were disposed to grant it — does not in the
least militate against our view, according to which, as will
be immediately more fully explained, it is only as resting in
Mind that power has any meaning, or can have any. So far,
therefore, from denying the theistic position — or, in other
words, the fact of a Supreme Kational Will as the only
explanation of things — it was in truth the peculiar error
of Leibnitz and the Cartesians, that they pushed this posi-
tion to such excess as to overbear the no less valid fact of
the finite rational will, through which alone, according to
our whole apprehension, the higher fact can be consistently
reached.

A little examination will equally avail to obviate the force
of the more pertinent illustration, drawn from the case of
the early Greek pliilosophers, and even to show how its
more correct understanding may be turned in favour of our
position. These philosophers, says Mr Mill, found in some
single physical element a sufficient explanation of things.
If they could rest satisfied with such an explanation, this is
a proof that there is no inherent mental necessity which
compels us to place Mind at the head of things as their
ultimate cause. But admitting that Thales* and Anaxi-
menes acknowledged in the physical elements — the one of

* Thales — whose case is out of all question the most in point, he having, in
virtue of his supposed views, been accused of Atheism— is jet expressly stated
by Cicero to have only held that the vou? or Divine IntelUgeuce created all
things from water ; a statement which at least ought to have so much weight
as to convince us how httle can be drawn from the fragmentary memorials
of ancient Grecian philosophy to determine authoritatively the question
before us.

48 THEISM.

Water, and the other of Air — not only a primordial prin-
ciple or 'prima materia, but an idtimate cause or final
explanation of things, it may be shown beyond dispute that
they only held such an opinion in virtue of their having re-
cognised in Water or Air respectively a peculiar formative
energy. To borrow Mr Mill's own mode of explanation,
with a fairer application than he makes of it, it was not
qua matter (this or that material form), but qud the vital
Energy or Soul * with which they were supposed endowed,
that these elements were apprehended to be the fountain
of existence. The idea of Originant force was what they
mainly associated with the apxh which they sought, what-
ever may be the merely material character which its name
now suggests to us.

Now, in this recognition of the ancient Grecian philo-
sophy, we have really, it is important to observe, the essen-
tial germ of our doctrine. Even if it be indisputable tliat
the clear conception of the Ultimate Cause as intelligent
were a later product of the same philosophy, it can be shown
that in the acknowledgment (under whatever special form)

* That this was really the opinion of Anaximenes in regard to Air is ad-
mitted by Lewes, in his rapid and clever review of the Ancient Philosophers in
the first volume of his Biog. History of Philosophj, p. 34 ; and the admission
on his part, as being so truly a thinker after Mr Mill's own heart, is significant.
Nay, so truly did Anaximenes recognise his original principle on the side of
activity or productive energy, that he made it identical with the soul — the
" something which moved him he knew not how." While Mr Lewes repre-
sents the doctrine of Thales as being of a lower character, he yet admits, in
his case as well, the apprehension of a vital force, as prominent in the sup-
posed i:)rimordial element, as indeed it is impossible in our view to conceive
otherwise. He says in a note, p. 34 : "When Anaximenes speaks of Aii-, as
when Thales speaks of Water, we must not understand these elements as they
appear in this or that determinate form on earth, but as Water and Air preg-
nant tvitk vital energij."

DOCTEINE OF FINAL CAUSES. 49

of Force as the original spring of existence, there is already
enfolded the great truth, of Mind forming the only final
explanation of things. The grounds on which we rest this
assertion will be immediately apparent. Kightly regarded,
therefore, these early Grecian speculations, so far from being
opposed to our position, furnish a powerful testimony to its
strength. Tor what were they, one and all of them, but
attempts to rise to the origin of things, and to apprehend
them in the light of some single Living power or principle?
To endeavour to represent them as evidences of the mind's
capacity to rest short of such a living supernatural Cause,
is profoundly to mistake, not only them, but the whole
course and meaning of human speculation.*

The position, indeed, on which we rest — viz., the irrepres-
sible necessity of the human mind thus to ascend to the
origin of things, and to apprehend this origin as a Power
above nature — is a position that so directly carries with it its
own evidence, that, like all self-evident truths, it is difficult to
deal with it argumentatively. All Eeligion and all Philoso-
phy testify to it. They express, the one, the deep feeling of
the common consciousness, the other the modified but no less
genuine feeling of the reflective consciousness, that there is a
Higher Source from which flow all the visible changes that
occur around us. So far from this being the mere dictate of
that instinctive philosophy of the human mind which dis-
appears with the advance of science, it is the utterance of
an ineradicable rational necessity, which never changes, how-

* It is even to mistake the fundamental law of human development ex-
pounded by Positivism, according to which man's earUest speculations are
of a theological character.

60 THEISM.

ever it may change its mode of expression. In one case tlie
Ultimate Source or Power may be so rudely apprehended, and
in another so refined and unified, that the two results may
seem not to represent the same conviction ; but it is the same
rational necessity that speaks in both. It is the same truth,
however in certain cases obscured and even distorted, that
forces itself upon us. Men cannot rest in any lower truth :
they are driven unceasingly upwards, till they rest in some
ultimate and comprehending Power. They cannot be satisfied
with any mere endless series of changes, which does not origi-
nate in such a Power, however various may otherwise be their
notions of it. Every ascent along the chain of mere natural
facts, leaves the mind still in search of an Origin beyond
nature. Here alone it searches no more, but rests in peace.
" We pass from eff"ect to cause, from sequence to sequence, and
from that to a higher cause, in search of something on which
the mind can rest ; but if we can do nothing but repeat this
process, there is no use in it. We move our limbs, but
make no advance. Our question is not answered, but evaded.
The mind cannot acquiesce in the destiny thus presented to
it, of being referred from event to event, from object to
object, along an interminable vista of causation and time.
Now this mode of stating the reply — to say that the mind
cannot thus he satisfied — appears to be equivalent to saying
that the mind is conscious of a principle in virtue of which
such a view as this must be rejected ; the mind takes refuge
in the assumption of a First Cause from an emi)loyment
inconsistent with its own nature."*

* Dr Whewell's Indications of the Creator, j). 199.

DOCTRINE OF FINAL CAUSES. 51

But tMs irresistible tendency to believe in some Power
above nature is not in itself, it may be said, commensurate
with the position we have laid down — viz., that Mind is
the only finally valid explanation of order. It gives us
merely the vague idea of some First Cause. Now of course
we do assert that the conception of Intelligence is plainly
present in that most universal form of the faith in a First
Cause to which we have appealed, and on which, in the
last case, our position rests. We are content to accept this
faith, in all its variety of explicit meaning, for what it
is in itself simply and incontrovertibly, — viz., a testimony
to some Hiffher Power. But what we do assert is, that
this faith in the vaguest form implicitly contains the
idea of Mind. For the lower fact has only existence in
and through the higher. Mind is to us the only anala-
gon of power or force. Our self-consciousness — accord-
ing to the whole scope of our previous argument — supplies
us with our only type of efficiency. Apart from, and inde-
pendently of, Mind, there is no reason to think that the
conception of force could have ever arisen within us. How-
ever, then, the generic element Intelligence may, in certain
cases, be concealed behind mere Power, we only require to
analyse and carry out the true meaning of the latter in
order to find the former. Power may perhaps be held
apart from Mind ; but as it only comes through the latter,
it certainly, as a fact, everywhere involves it, and has a con-
stant tendency to return into it. It is true, there are states
of society in which, either from gross ignorance or an over-
driven speculative rage — which is no less, in the most real

52 THEISM.

sense, ignorance — the higher and more comprehensive signi-
ficance is lost sight of, or does not distinctively emerge ; but
it is equally true that such states are abnormal and tempo-
rary, and that the narrower and more special idea can no-
where be long or consistently held without exjDanding into
the other. Power can only permanently assert itself as the
acknowledged attribute of Mind.

To those who have not thoroughly reflected on the subject,
this may not seem an obvious conclusion ; but there is
nothing appears to us at once more true, and more impor-
tant to be kept in view. Let it but be granted that we
obtain the idea of force solely from the conscious operation
of our own minds — and it does not seem, according to all we
formerly said, and even according to the express basis of
materialism, that this admits of any dispute, — and let it fur-
ther be admitted that it is this idea of power or force in
which alone we can ultimately rest in our impelled ascent to
the Source of things, — it seems impossible that we can help
recognising this Source as Intelligent, when it is only through
the conscious fact and operation of our own intelligence that
we have the idea with which it is identical. Power being only
known to us at all as the expression of Mind, the Ultimate
Power necessarily becomes to us an Ultimate Mind. Let it
be, that the dim unexamined promptings of consciousness
may permit us to rest for a little, and may even permit races,
in whom intelligence, save as a blind force, is scarcely deve-
loped, to rest for ages, in the mere vague conception of
Power in the external universe, this conception can never
fail, in the clearer working of consciousness, to be transferred

DOCTEINE OF FINAL CAUSES. 53

into its full symbol — Mind * We can no more, in fact, help
making Mind objective, and apprehending it as the only-
ultimate cause or explanation of things, than we can help
recognising existence under the forms of our mental consti-
tution at all. The one result is simply the carrying out of
the other.

* " Let us ask ho^o the primordial force of pantheism is legitimately trans-
formed into an attribute of an intelligence ? Let a designer stand for an in-
telligence who is possessed of power, and who intentionally adapts means to an
end. Design, therefore, will stand for intentional adaptation ; and from the
contemj)lation of man, we are enabled to make the above definitions without
transcending the realm of experience. When we have made man objective,
we can affirm, ' man can design ; ' and when we contemplate the i)rodii.ct of
man's design, we find it expressed in the terms, ' adaptation of means to an
end,' where neither of the terms are psychological, but such are used legiti-
mately in physical science. And when, on the other hand, we find in nature
the adaptation of means to an end, we infer design and a designer, because
the only circumstances within our experience in which we can trace the origi-
nation of adaptation, are those in which human mind is implicated. And thus
what was at first an omnipresent and immortal siibstance, and afterwards an
omnipresent and immortal poiver, becomes transformed into an omnipresent
and immortal intelligence" We give this quotation from a recent work,
marked by eminent abihty (TAe Theory of Human Progression, p. 481-2), not as
coinciding with its representation of the mode in which force becomes trans-
formed into an attribute of Intelligence (Mind), in so far as that representation
is exclusive ; although we recognise the influence of the process to which the
writer ascribes the origin of the idea of Intelligence, in educating and clearing
up this phase of the theistic conception, as indeed our whole illustrative evi-
dence is based on such a recognition. In this, however, we disagree with
the representation of the writer before us, — that we recognise Mind as already
implicitly given in Force — the higher, as already contained in the lower phase
of the theistic conception — and on the very grounds on which he finds desig-n
in nature, — viz., that the only circumstances within our experience, in which
we can trace force or origination of any kind, are those in which Mind
is implicated — because Mind, in short, is to us the only analagon of force.
Not only does adaptation, as a fact, give Mind, but Force (Cause), ah-eady
in our view, however obscurely, gives it. The study of design in Creation
does not, as we hold, add Intelligence for the first time to our original causal
belief. For this belief already in its vaguest form only takes its rise in
the conscious operation of Mind. The manifestations of design are, how-
ever, of the utmost value in quickening and educating the idea of Mind or
Intelligence.

64 THEISM.

This is tlie final view of our position ; and so clearly is it
felt to be so, that it will be found that the opposite school of
thinkers have retreated thither in an attitude of denial. This
is felt to be the last and essential point on either side, and
appears to us to be clearly indicated as such in that remark-
able passage of Mr Mill which we quoted in the outset. Let
it be admitted that Mind is the only efficient cause of things
with which we are or can be acquainted : does this entitle
us to place it at the head of nature ? Because Mind is to
us the only conceivable origin, does this justify us in mak-
ing it the origin of things in general ? Have we any right,
in short, to apply the limited modes of our rational concep-
tivity to the universe ? This appears to be a fair statement
of the ultimate question. Mr Mill, indeed, might repudiate
this statement. His eagerness to argue the question of
efficient causes on the lower ground of their rejection
not being incompatible with the " laws of our mental con-
ceptivity,'' would seem to imply his willingness to abide
by what might be proved to be the true character of these
laws. But we think it plain beyond dispute, that the true
source of his views lies in that deeper scepticism which
treats the human soul as a mere product of nature, whose
essential modes of conception do not necessarily mirror,
in any true sense, the universe. And this position,
which is more implied than asserted in his work, is openly
and explicitly assumed by other writers of the same school.
Human ideas are denied any correspondent relation to
the Divine Existence. The attempt to bring the imiverse
within the forms of man's reason, is represented as being

DOCTEINE OF FINAL CAUSES. 55

equivalent to the old sophistic canon of " man the
measure of things/' " At all times/' writes Mr Lewes,
" man has made God in his own image ; he has idealised and
intensified his own nature, and worshipped that. This he
has ever done ; this, perhaps, he ever will do. But we who,
in serene philosophy, smile condescendingly on the ill-taught
barbarian, whom we find attributing his motives, his pas-
sions, his infirmities, to the Creator of all — we who shud-
der at the idea of such anthropomorphism, how comes it
that we also have fallen into the trap, and, having withdrawn
from God tke investiture of Passion, persist in substituting
for it an abstraction named Reason ? Is not God conceived
to be pure Reason — omnipotent Intelligence ? and as Intelli-
gence is Lord and Master of this Universe, so what Intelli-
gence recognises as perfect or imperfect, must be perfect or
imperfect/' *

This last assertion of materialistic infidelity deserves par-
ticular attention, for it embraces the whole sum of the
question between it and a theistic Philosophy. It presents,
we feel assured, the only consistent argument by which this
Philosophy can be assailed. And it is full of pregnant mean-
ing for the great issue at stake in Natural Theology, that it
should become manifest that the validity of its conclusions
can only be consistently disputed on grounds which can be
shown to involve the negation of all Philosophy and all
Theology, and which spring from a mode of thought essen-
tially hostile to those highest expressions of truth which we
so deeply venerate in Christianity.

* Comte's Philosophy of the Sciences. By G. H. Lewes, pp. 89, 90.

56 THEISM.

Let us see more particularly what this assertion involves.
AYhen it is alleged that the facts of the universe are not ne-
cessarily correspondent to the modes of human reason, what
is implied ? Undoubtedly this, that however man may ob-
serve and classify the facts of nature, these facts can never
become to him truth, for it is only the light of interpreta-
tion with which his reason invests them, that makes them to
him Teuth. This, however, is called by our Positive Philo-
sophers " anthropomorphism,'' and the boundless Life of the
universe is represented as unwarrantably confined within the
forms of man's interpretation. It is surely enough to say, in
answer to such a view, that it is not possible to conceive how
man could have ever known truth save under the conditions
of his reason ; and to allege, therefore, this necessary condi-
tion of his having any knowledge in proof of the weakness and
incompetency of that knowledge, is simply a desperation of
scepticism so ridiculous that we might well be pardoned for
not attempting any reply to it. Whether or not there be
any other truth in regard to the universe than that which
the forms of his reason compel him to accept as such, must
be to man an utterly idle question. There can be no
other truth to him than that which he is thus compelled
to accept. To state the matter still more pertinently,
let it be admitted to be a fair hypothesis that there
may be efficient causes in the universe entirely different
from that of which alone he has, or can have, any idea,
it yet remains a fact, that the universe is to him only
conceivable as the production of Mind — Intelligent Power.
It is a fact, according to our whole theory, that this

DOCTEINE OF FINAL CAUSES. 57

conception is one inextinguisliable in human nature. And
the refusal of the Positivist, therefore, to accept the verdict
of human nature on the subject, simjDly amounts to an asser-
tion of utter scepticism — a denial of any truth being possible
to man.

Indeed, if the demands of our rational consciousness be
repelled in this, one of its deepest expressions, it seems a clear
inference, that not only truth in the highest sense is ren-
dered impossible, but that even the foundations of Science are
assailed. For if we refuse to accept the rational interpreta-
tion of nature in its full extent, we can have no right to accept
it to any extent. If it be an inherent necessity of our men-
tal constitution — which we have so fully shown it to be — that
we recognise Mind in nature as its source, and we refuse that
recognition, we thereby impugn the veracity of the human
consciousness altogether, and leave no foot-hold for truth of
any kind, according to the well-known maxim, which in such
an application can admit of no dispute, " falsus in uno, falsus
in omnibus." The final position assumed by Positivism might
well, therefore, be left to its own refutation ; for a position
of such a character is self-destructive. Positivism is, in
fact, essentially, whatever philosophical pretensions it may
arrogate to itself, nothing else than a species of philosophical
suicide.

The condition of all true science, as of all philosophy, lies
in a totally different view of the relation of the human mind to
the universe. They essentially presuppose, as the ground of
their veracity, an original harmony between Mind and nature,

E

58 THEISM.

SO that the former finds its own laws in the latter, and rightly
relies on the reality of what it there finds. Man is thus con-
ceived to stand to the whole world of material existence in the
light of Interjoreter. He is the prophet of the otherwise
dumb oracle, — the voice of the otherwise silent symbol. He
looks abroad with a clear confidence, that what he every-
where reads in the light of his own consciousness is the very
truth and meaning which is there, and which he therefore
ought to receive. Let this confidence be destroyed, and there
remains for him no truth or genuine science that we can
imagine.

It is important to observe the exact character of the rela-
tion thus maintained to exist between Mind and nature.
The correct perception of it dissipates at once all ingenious
and plausible misrepresentations with which it may be
attacked. It is a relation of correspondence or harmony
as already stated, so that Mind apprehends nature in a
faithful mirror, and finds a reality answering to its intui-
tions ; but it is not asserted to be a commensurate relation
in the sense of the old dictum, " Man the measure of things."
There is a most important distinction between the two views,
amounting to all the difference between a sound and reverent
philosophy, and that higher and more vaulting speculation
which overleaps itself in the attempt to construct the uni-
verse from the mere abstract forms of human thought. In
the latter case, alone, is man made the " measure of things,"
when he aspires not merely to apprehend truth, and to
stand face to face with it, but to co?7iprehend and contain
all truth within the limits of his mental conceptivity. In

DOCTEINE OF FINAL CAUSES. 59

the one case man only aspires to the knowledge of God,
without which he were the most miserable of all beincrs —
that inexplicable contradiction which he has been sometimes
painted ; in the other he aspires to be as God — an attitude
in which he appears just as ridiculously and falsely exalted,
as, in the other, he is wretchedly and falsely degraded.

We approach here that significant opposition in the modes
of thought we are considering, at which we have already
hinted, and which is highly worthy of our notice in conclu-
sion. The question before us, resolved into this its most gene-
ral shape, comes undoubtedly to be one regarding the whole
position and dignity of man in the universe. According to
the old religious view, on which Christianity, as well indeed
as all Eeligion and all Philosophy, rests, man is considered
to be not merely a creature, making his appearance in the
course of nature, but a creature, while in nature, at the same
time in a true sense above it — specially allied to its Divine
Source. The perfect expression of this only truly religious
and philosophic view is given in the imperishable language
of Scripture — " God made man in His own image/' The
same truth is classically expressed in the memorial words
— " In nature there is nothing great but man ; in man there
is nothing great but mind."

According to this view, man, while in the very fact of his
present existence a product of nature, is yet endowed with
capacities which exalt him far above it, and place him in a
perfectly peculiar relation to the universe. He is indeed
Matter, but yet Spirit. There is a Divine element of
conscious reason in him, which asserts its superiority over

60 THEISM.

the whole sphere of nature, and validly finds its own laws
in all. In one aspect of his being, indeed, he is purely-
natural — a mere element, and a very frail one, in the world-
progress ; but, in another aspect, he is truly supernatural,
and even the whole universe is his inferior and subject.
According to the fine thought of Pascal, " Man is but a reed,
the feeblest thing in nature ; but he is a reed that thinks
(un roseau pensant). It needs not that the universe arm
itself to crush him. An exhalation, a drop of water, suffices
to destroy him. But were the universe to crush him, man
is yet nobler than the universe, for he knows that he dies ;
and the universe, even in prevailing against him, knows not
its power." *

"Man is yet nohler than the universe!' Here, where
clearly centre the most significant depths of Christian doc-
trine, lies also the essential doctrine of Theism. The Infi-
delity which rejects it, therefore, is really, probed to its bot-
tom, an infidelity not only in God, but in man. Eeason is
with it only the plaything of time — the growth of nature.
With the Theist it is the first-born of Eternity — the very
" image of God.'' The soul is infinitely higher than all
nature, and validly, therefore, brings all nature within its
sphere, and finds its own reflection everywhere in it. Mat-
ter is only glorified in the light of Spirit. Nature is only
beautiful — only, in fact, intelligible — in the mirror of EVEE-
LiviNG Mind.

We receive but what we give,
And in our life alone does Nature live.

Fensees, Faugere's edit. Tome ii. p. 84.

GENEEAL LAWS. 61

§ I.—CHAPTER IV.

THEISTIC CONCLUSION. — (GENEEAL LAWS.)

The major premiss of our theistic syllogism has been made
good, according to the validity of our previous reasoning.
More than this, the theistic conclusion itself, in its primary
and most naked form, has been made good along with it. In
the very nature of the case, the question passed over from its
initiative and abstract, to its direct and conclusive statement.
The minor premiss was held as implied; and the essential
question came to be whether a mode of conception, valid in
certain human applications, was valid in reference to nature
at large — whether, in short. Mind, admitted to be to man
the only efficient cause, was yet entitled to be considered the
only efficient cause and final explanation of the universe.

We have claimed' this position for Mind in virtue of a
rational necessity, which will not allow us to rest short
of such a conclusion. More particularly, we have endea-
voured to vindicate it by determining the true nature of
causation, which we find to be always a relation of effi-
ciency, and which, therefore, at the very first, carried us be-

^

62 THEISM.

yond the mere range of physical sequences to some Power in
which they originate. This Power can be nothing else than
a Mind, as it is only in the fact and conscious operation of
our own minds that we have the conception of power at all.
The rational necessity on which the argument thus rests can
only be consistently set aside by denying the veracity of our
rational being altogether, and so destroying the foundations
of all science and philosophy whatever. Mind is found in
nature as a whole, and held to be its only ultimate explan-
ation on the very same grounds on which we apply to
nature the forms of our mental life at all. The theistic
conclusion is only the fair result of the rational interpreta-
tion of nature carried out.

The conclusive sum of our previous argument gives us,
then, when fully expressed, an Intelligent First Cause of
nature. The root of this conclusion, however, is not in
external nature, but in our rational consciousness. Nay, it
emerges in what is distinctively called our moral conscious-
ness. It starts from this as its special source. But, inas-
much as our spiritual life is a unity, this distinctive origin
of the theistic conception does not affect, as some would
seem to think, the appropriate significance and validity of
the general argument from design. It only points to the
deep harmony which underlies the whole of the theistic evi-
dence. It only indicates where the links of that evidence
gather up into a final and irrefragable postulate of our
spiritual being.

Before passing from this branch of our subject, there is a
relation of it which it may be well to consider, — with such

GENEEAL LAWS. 63

perverseness has it been misinterpreted and misapplied.
It has been held that our conclusion is at variance with the
results of Science. Science gives us, as the final expression
of phenomena everywhere, general laws, to which the
phenomena may all be traced back, and upon which they
seem to depend. It is simply the aim of Science to discover
these laws in every department of nature, and so to give to
man a greater mastery over its multiplied resources. It is
not, perhaps, much to be wondered at that, in the proud
and continued triumph with which Science has pursued her
course, there should have been some of her votaries who
believed themselves not only exposing the domain of nature,
but revealing the last truths which it concerns man to
learn. And while the great conclusion of Theism has been
thus deUberately discarded by certain minds, it has been felt
by many more as if that conclusion were somehow dan-
gerously aifected by the discoveries of Science.

It will afterwards be our aim, in a more special way, to
show how little the theistic position is afi"ected by the most
notable of these discoveries ; how little, in truth, we can
rest in even the most signal of general laws as self-
explanatory,— as furnishing the last expression of truth
for the human mind. The fact is, that any such law,
instead of explaining the phenomena which seem to issue
from it, is merely the general condition in which these
phenomena express themselves, and apart from which it has
no existence. Instead of the law explaining the pheno-
mena, therefore, it might be more truly said that the pheno-
mena explain the law, just as a sum in arithmetic gives

64 THEISM.

the answer rather than the answer the sum. The true
realities are the separate facts. The law is only the sum-
mary expression by which we hold these facts before our
mind.

In the mean time it concerns us to show how finely and
truly, in a right point of view, the highest conceptions of
Science harmonise with the theistic conclusion. It is only
an miworthy and absurd representation of either that leaves
any ground for hostility between them.

It has been presumed, for example, that there is an incon-
sistency between a self-acting power and that invariable
uniformity which is seen to characterise the operations of
nature. The order which Science discovers everywhere
is supposed, in its silent and undeviating march, to exclude
any personal agency. This agency is apprehended as some-
thing necessarily arbitrary, and hence as conflicting wdth
general laws. Volition, in short, and law or order, are con-
ceived of as incompatible realities ; and the idea of any
directing Volition is held as dispelled by the knowledge
which Science enables us to acquire of natural phenomena,
so that we can foretell and even control them.* Now,

* The following quotation will show that we do not misrepresent the doc-
trine of Positivism : " The fundamental character of all Theological Philosophy
is the conceiving of pheno^nena as subjected to Supernatural Volition, and con-
sequently (! !) as eminently and irregularly variable. Now, these Theo-
logical conceptions can only bo subverted finally by means of these two gene-
ral processes, whose popular success is infallible in the long run — (1) the exact
and rational previsio7i of pkenoinena, and (2) the 2^ossibility of modifying
them, so as to promote our own ends and advantages. The former immediately
dispels the idea of any ' Directing Volition ;' and the latter tends to the same
result, under another point of view, by making us regard this power as subor-
dinate to our own." — Comte's Philosophy of the Sciences^ by Lewes, pp. 102,
103.

GENEEAL LAWS. 65

nothing can well be imagined more absmxl and unpliiloso-
phical than such a notion of volition applied to the Supreme
Being. The only valid presumption in the case would be of
a totally different character. Instead of regularity being
supposed inconsistent with the agency of such a Being, it
would be held as only its appropriate expression. It is only the
most vicious idea of will, as divorced from reason, that could
for a moment give rise to a different apprehension. A
Supreme Will, which is at the same time Supreme Wisdom,
we can only think of as manifesting itself in order. The
actual order of nature, therefore, so far from affording a
ground of objection to the fact of superintending Volition,
is just the very form in which we should rationally conceive
that VoUtion to express itself. And the mastery which, by
the help of Science, we acquire over the resources of nature,
instead of destroying the notion of such Volition, only serves
to bring into clearer view the wonderful means by which it
works, and through which it provides for human happiness.
The scientific prevision of phenomena is simply the inter-
pretation of the plans of the Divine Eeason by that human
reason which is allied ^o it, and which only finds in the
Divine plans the realisation of its own highest conceptions of
order.

The same fundamental prejudice, strange as it may seem,
is found even to pervade the language of Theology. Look-
ing upon general laws more as vast mechanisms than
Kving forces, the theologian too has been apt to consider
them as inconsistent with the idea of directing Volition,
or special Providence. They have seemed to him to destroy

66 THEISM.

that living guardian presence of God in nature which the
heart instinctively cherishes : and he has, accordingly, some-
times spoken of them with a sort of jealousy. But, accord-
ing to their right conception, they are very far from thus
displacing and putting out of view the Divine Agency.
So very far from domg this, they are truly nothing else
than the expression of that Agency — the continual going
forth of the Divine Efficiency. Instead, therefore, of post-
poning or removing to a distance the Divine Presence, they
are everywhere simply the manifestations of that Presence.
To su23j)ose that, because the order of nature is fixed to us,
the Divine Pather cannot exercise through that order a
special providence towards His children, is simply a presump-
tuous imagination of the most unworthy kind. For to the
great Source of Being, who " seeth in all His works the end
from the beginning/' these only are at any moment, in all
their endless intricacy of action and reaction, even as He
appoints. The truer view, therefore, woidd be to regard the
Avhole course of Providence, the whole order of nature, as
special, in the sense of proceeding directly every moment
from the awful abysses of Creative Power.

Certainly, if there is any correction needed in our theological
conceptions and nomenclature on this subject, it is in reference
to the supposition oi^genei^al rather than of a special Provi-
dence— of the former as in any true or intelligible sense dis-
tinguished from the latter. Por surely, to conceive of any order
of events, or any facts of nature, as less directly connected
than others with their Divine Author, is an absurdity. And
what, save this, can be distinctively meant by a general

PEOVIDENCE. 67

Providence, we are at a loss to imagine. Only suppose the
Deity equally present in all His works, equally active in all,
and Providence no longer admits of a twofold apprehension.
It is simply, in every possible mode of its conception, the
Agency of God ; equally mediate in all cases as expressing
itself by soine means, but also in all cases equally immediate
as no less truly expressed in one species of means as in an-
other. According to this higher and comprehensive view,
the Divine Presence lives alike in all the Divine works. God
is everywhere in nature, speaking to us the same language.
He is equally near to us in all its more ordinary and more
striking aspects ; in the glad sunshine or the gentle shower,
as in the boding darkness and the dreadful storm ; in the
fall of the leaf amid the fields of autumn, as in the waste of
the whirlwind on the desolated plains of winter.

68 THEISM.

SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER.*

SPECIAL (geological) EVIDENCE OF A CEEATOE.

The doctrine of an Intelligent First Cause, which it has been
the aim of the foregoing chapter to establish, has been sup-
posed to derive a special testimony and confirmation from
the facts of Geological science. It has been maintained that
these facts not only enable the Natural Theologian — as in
the case of existing organic products — to infer a supreme
Creative Mind, although this, too, they eminently do ; but
moreover conduct us directly backwards to the presence and
agency of such a Mind. In a word, they are said to take
us out of the region of natural cause and effect, and to
bring us face to face with the great Creative Cause. Lord
Brougham, in his review of the memorable labours of Cuvier
in the department of Possil Osteology, was among the first to
draw attention to the distinctive character and cogency of
this branch of the theistic evidence. Dr Chalmers was dis-

* The character of the evidence treated of in this chapter suflSciently sepa-
rates it from the general range of merely illustrative evidence. This, upon the
whole, seemed to be the proper position for it.

SPECIAL EVIDENCE OF A CEEATOE. 69

posed to place great stress upon it, especially as serving in a
direct and tangible way to extricate the Natural Theologian
from the meshes of Hume's sophistry. The question it in-
volves, the reader will at once recognise as one which has
recently assumed a peculiar prominence and importance in
scientific discussions.

Interesting, however, as this question is to the Natural
Theologian, it is right to observe that we do not hold it
to involve the essential interests of Theism. The theistic
argument no doubt receives a striking illumination from the
idea of successive creative interpositions, manifest in the
very structure of the earth and its organic remains. It is in
the highest degree significant, that, as we turn over the stony
tablets of the Geological volume, we should not merely be
arrested at every page with impressive manifestations of
that pervading design which we perceive everywhere, but
at definite intervals should gaze with awe upon the very
record of Creation, and behold, as it were, the finger of
Omnipotence in mysterious operation. Yet it is clearly
evident to us, and deserves to be carefully considered, that
even should advancing science tend to throw obscurity
upon the supposed traces of direct Creative Energy, the
great doctrine of Theism would remain altogether un-
touched. Even if those finger-prints of the Creator, upon
which the Christian Geologist has delighted to expatiate,
should become dim and obliterated, as the eye of Science
grows more familiar with them, and pierces them with a
keener scrutiny, the fact of a Creative Presence would
not thereby be really affected. God would equally, if

70 THEISM.

not so strikingly, live and Avork in the supposed extended
development of creation, as in the supposed instances of
direct Creative Power.

It is worthy of notice how completely this is admitted by
the chief expounder of the development hypothesis in our
own country.* However his conclusions may seem, as they
certainly seem to us, to obscure and pervert, in its highest
meaning, the doctrine of Theism, they are yet by no means
essentially, still less expressly, atheistic. On the contrary,
the author strongly recognises a Supreme Mind, as necessarily
implied in all the order of the universe ; and, in the most
recent edition of his work, he has added the special confes-
sion, that he "believes'' in sl personal and intelligent God, and

* This admission is, upon the whole, so clearly and happily expressed, that
we are prompted to submit it to the reader. " What, in the Science of Na-
ture," asks the author of the Vestiges, '^ is a law ? It is merely the term appli-
cable where any series of phenomena is seen invariably to occm- in certain given
circumstances, or in certain given conditions. Such phenomena are said to
obey a law, because they appear to be under a rule or ordinance of constant
operation. In the case of these physical laws, we can bring the idea to mathe-
matical elements, and see that mimhers, in the expression of space or of time,
form, as it were, its basis. We thus trace in law, Intelhgence. Often we can
see that it has a beneficial object, still more strongly speaking oi Mind as con-
cerned in it. Thei-e cannot, however, be an inherent intelligence in these laws.
The intelhgence appears external to the laivs : something of which the laws are
but as the expressions of the Will and Power. If this be admitted, the laws
cannot be regarded as primary or independent causes of the phenomena of the
physical world. We come, in short, to a Being beyond nature — its Author, its
God ; infinite, inconceivable, it may be, and yet one whom these very laws
present to us with attributes showing that our nature is in some way a faint
and far-cast shadow of His, while all the gentlest and beautifullest of our emo-
tions lead us to believe tha,t we are as childi'cn in His care, and as vessels in
His hand. Let it then be understood — and this is for the reader's special
attention— that when rational law is spoken of here, reference is only made
to the mode in which the Divine Power is exercised. It is but another phrase
for the action of the ever-present and sustaining God."— P. 10.

SPECIAL EVIDENCE OF A CEEATOR. 71

cannot conceive of dead matter receiving life otherwise than
through Him*

The peculiar question involved is not one which properly
affects the existence of God, however deeply jfc may affect
all for which that truth is important and dear to us. It is
truly a question as to the mode of the Divine Agency. In
the one case as in the other, a Creator is admitted ; only in
the one case it is maintained that we have (in the fact of
the origin of life, for example — and again, of the successive
animal species that have peopled the earth) the manifesta-
tions of a special Creative Energy ; in the other, that we
have merely the manifestations of an advance in the course
of natural law — an advance not alleged to exclude the
Creator, yet the immediate result of an inherent impulse
originally imparted to matter, and not of a special creative
fiat.

In the question thus at issue, the burden of proof lies
plainly upon the advocate of the development hypothesis.
He proposes a special theory to account for the ascending
phenomena of creation, and the successive changes of organic
being to which Geology testifies. This theory is one which
is undeniably at variance with the law which now most
obviously regulates the production of life. The very words
in which the author of the Vestiges has expressed his theory
imply this. The hypothetical development which he defends
is one whereby, he says, " the simplest and most primitive
type, under a latu to which that of like production is suh-

* Appendix to Vestiges, p. 55 ; tenth edition.

72 THEISM.

ordinate, gave birth to the type next above it — this again
produced the next type, and so on to the highest/' * But
the law of like production, which he here subordinates to a
higher and ^ore comprehensive law, is the only one with
which, in the historical period of creation, we are familiar.
As yet we certainly possess no valid evidence of a different
law — or, in other words, of the transmutation of species — and
still less of the origin of life under any material influences,
electrical or otherwise.

True, it is admitted on all hands, that both vegetable and
animal organisms are capable of certain degrees of variation
and modification under external circumstances. There are
even, it must be granted, certain indications among the
lower forms of life of this modifiable capacity extending
farther than was at first supposed. The alleged case of the
JEgilops ovata f is an illustration. But, admitting all this,
it will not be contended that any series of facts, as yet
discovered by science, tends to establish a doctrine of muta-
tion of species. Indications there have been sufficiently
curious, and fitted to arrest the inductive inquirer as to the
supposed accuracy of his specific distinctions, but certainly
no foundation whatever for denying the reality of such dis-
tinctions. Nay, the fact that organisms generally are modi-
fiable within certain limits, but not beyond them — that this
is the unquestionable law of organic species within the his-
torical period, would seem to imply that there is, in all

* Vestiges ; Appendix, p. 60.

t This naturally barren grass, according to the alleged discovery of M.
Esprit Fabre, is merely the wild form of cultivated wheat.

SPECIAL EVIDENCE OF A CEEATOE. 73

cases, a set boundary to the ojjeration of external influences.
Definite variability within the range of species would seem
to form just the most strongly presumptive evidence of the
substantive and radical distinction of species. This is clearly
the truth to which the " overbalance of physiological autho-
rity'' testifies. The decision of the authority is thus expressed
by Dr Whewell : " There is a capacity in all species to
accommodate themselves, to a certain extent, to a change
of external circumstances, this extent varying greatly accord-
ing to the species. There may thus arise changes of appear-
ance or structure, and some of these changes are transmis-
sible to the offspring ; but the mutations thus superinduced
are governed by constant laws, and confined within certain
limits. Indefinite divergence from the original tjrpe is not
possible ; and the extreme limit of possible variation may
usually be reached in a short period of time. In short,
species have a real existence in nature, and a transmutation
from one to another does not exist.'' *

We are aware that it is argued by the advocate of
development that the law of mutation of species, which we
fail to discover in the present order of things, may yet have
been in active operation throughout the lengthened periods
of Geological history, in comparison with which the years
of man's scientific observation of the earth are not to be
reckoned ; but until he can show this, it is at least the safer
course to abide by the testimony of historical experience.
Here and now we perceive that the law of like from like is

* Indications of the Creator, p. 100.
F

74 THEISM.

tlie law of organic production ; and if tlie fact of tliis being
the present law will not perhaps entitle iis to pronounce
authoritatively that it was the law as well of the ancient
periods of the earth, still less, surely, are we warranted in
admitting the operation of a wholly different law during
these periods, without a wholly different kind of evidence
from that which Geology has yet furnished.

But even if there were as many presumptions in favour of
the theory of the transmutation of species as there are pre-
sumptions against it, there would still remain the stubborn
and inexplicable fact of Life (not to mention the higher
facts of Intelligence and Eesponsibility) in the way of the
adoption of the hypothesis of the Vestiges. For it ^vill
hardly be seriously maintained that any of the attempts
which have been made to explain by natural means the
genesis of life from dead matter, deserves from us other
acknowledgment than is ever due to the persevering and aspir-
ing efforts of Science, in whatever direction. The theory of
spontaneous generation, in any shape, has undoubtedly been
losing rather than gaining ground from the late advances of
physiology. Suppositions, at one time pretty generally enter-
tained, as to the production of infusory animalcula apart from
ova, have been pronounced by Professor Owen, in conformity
with the result of his recent researches into the various modes
of reproduction with which nature has provided these ani-
mals, to be " quite gratuitous." * The more thoroughly,
indeed, the minuter facts of nature are apprehended — the

* Lectures on Comparative A natomy, vol. ii. p. 1 90, quoted by Hitchcock in
his Religion of Geology, p. 269.

SPECIAL EVIDENCE OF A CREATOE. 75

more the light of science is cast upon them — only the deeper
becomes the mystery of Life. Instead of om^ approaching
the exposure of this secret, we are only the more fully
taught that it lies beyond our scrutiny, and must for ever
baffle our research.

In the view of the facts thus briefly urged, which leave
the development hypothesis at the best a mere unsupported,
if not uninteresting, conjecture, it cannot be doubted that
the theory of successive creations, defended by all our
highest Geolomsts, is the one which has most claim to our
acceptance. It proceeds on an obvious basis of facts, which
not only warrants, but, in the mean time at least, seems to
necessitate it. In tracing backwards the Geological history,
we meet with phenomena which do not relate themselves to
antecedent phenomena in the way of natural cause and
effect. The supposition of a Supernatural or Creative Cause
seems inevitable. Be it observed that this theory, according
to its just meaning, does not put itself forward as a dogma.
It does not interdict inquiry, and pronounce that there are
no links of natural sequence between the phenomena in
question ; it only states that none such have been proved.
It does not judge nature, but simply interprets it ; asserting
merely as matter of fact, that no such links have been exposed;
that in our retrogressive ascent along the course of creation
we reach gaps in the evolution of physical sequences —
points which yield no natural explanation, and which there-
fore necessitate a Supernatural. We trace backwards the
threads of physical relations, till we can go no farther by the
boldest light of Science, until, by the very penetrating blaze

76 THEISM.

of its torch, we are brought face to face with directly Crea-
tive Power.

In thus recognising successive interventions of direct
Creative Power in the Geological history, we do not for a
moment necessarily deny the presence of a general order of
procession among the phenomena of creation. The advo-
cates of development have indeed dexterously sought to
represent their theory as the only possible conception of
processional order, applied to the universe. They have put
the question as between it and any intelligible theory at all.
But this is wholly unwarrantable ; for it surely is not in the
least degree necessary that we hold that the whole process
of creation has been a mere evolution from primordial prin-
ciples at first imparted to matter — that, in the language of
Dr Wliewell, " Life grows out of dead matter, the higher
animals out of the lower, and man out of brutes,"^ — in order
to be able to discover a true and vast order of progress in
the course of creation. Such a merely mechanical develop-
ment appears, on the contrary, from its very affectation of
simplicity, to be an ambiguous and suspicious conception.
In any case it can have no claim, a priori, to represent the
process of creation ; and they who discredit it are not to be
supposed at all insensible " to the wonderful order and har-
mony, the gradations and connections, which run through
the forms of animal life, and enable the anatomist and phy-
siologist to pass in thought, along the unbroken line, from
the rudest and simplest organic germs to the most completely
developed animal structure.'' f

* Dr Whewell's Indications, Preface, p. 12. f Ibid., p. 13.

ORDEE OF CEEATION. 77

The idea of an ascensional order of creation is one which,
in our opinion, the Christian Theist is by no means called
upon to dispute ; and perhaps it will be admitted, on a calm
review of the recent controversy on the subject, that too
much anxiety has been evinced to break up the alleged evi-
dence of ascension — of development, in a true sense, upon
which the author of the Vestiges has founded his con-
clusions. Even should the supposed discovery of vertebrated
fossils in the lower Silurian rocks, as recently reported, be,
in the end, able to sustain itself, this would by no means
settle the matter against the theory of ascent. It would
by no means follow that the course of creation may not have
been, as a whole, from the lower to the higher, although we
may yet discover the highest animals in the lowest strati-
fied rocks. Such a discovery would, no doubt, bear with
damaging effect against the author of the Vestiges, but it
would not at all necessarily destroy a rational theory of
development. It does not and cannot overturn the idea of
a regular procession of species ; it only removes the date
and verge of that procession farther back. This is all that
such a discovery would necessarily imply ; and as Theism
has nothing to dread from the idea of a processional advance
from the lower to the higher types of being, rightly appre-
hended— ^while this idea is one which commends itself by
its suggestive grandeur — we do not see that it should either
attract suspicion or provoke refutation.

If only we hold by the clear conception of the course of
nature — or, in other words, Providence — being nothing else
than a continued forth-putting of originally Creative Energy,

78 THEISM.

we shall see nothing to surprise us in the gradual rise and
ever-expanding development of new forms of being along the
march of creation. These will seem to us, on the contrary,
just what we might expect, so far as our expectations have
any claim to be regarded in the matter ; only brighter flush-
ino's, as it were, of the Divine Presence, here and there,
along the extended scroll of creation, telling more directly
of the radiant Power which it everywhere reveals.

And this view is that which no less tells most decisively
against the hypothesis of the Vestiges. It is the same
vicious metaphysical assumption which we have seen to un-
derly the reasoning of the Positive School as to the direct
action of Divine Will being something necessarily irregular
— being what is called (in language which concentrates the
whole perverted essence of the assumption) an " interference."
It is undoubtedly this vicious idea, as to a necessary op-
position between law and Creative Will, which lies at the
root of the whole reasoning of the Vestiges, and forms the
most vital question between the author and his opponents.
But why, we may surely ask, should direct Creative action
be necessarily conceived of as an interference, and, as
such, unworthy of the Infinite repose and majesty of God?*
What is law itself, according to the clear admission of the
writer, but a mode of the Divine Efficiency — an expression
of the Divine Mind or Will ? What is it that constitutes
the permanence which we peculiarly ascribe to law —

* Every one familiar with the Vestiyes will recall how repeatedly the
author falls back upon this assumption as to the Divine character and mode
of action. It is the pervading idea, in fact, in which the book obviously ori-
ginated.

CEEATIVE WILL. 79

to the order of Providence — but the continued forth-
putting of that Efficiency? Were this forth-putting to cease
any moment, the law would disappear, the course of Provi-
dence would dissolve and vanish away. Now, because God,
for obvious reasons, maintains the forth-puttings of His Effi-
cient Energy, after certain modes which, collectively, we call
Nature, why should this exclude new and special forth-
puttings of that energy, when He may see meet — in other
words, when fitting occasions may arise ? Why should such
fresh expressions of Creative Power be supposed to be irre-
gularities, "interferences" in the great plan of creation —
and not, as according to the genuine theistic conception
they truly are, parts in the development of that great plan
contemplated from the first ? Is not the former supposition
the one which truly degrades that Infinite Being, " who
knoweth all His works from the beginning to the end V

The truth is, it is only the most deep-seated anthropomor-
phism (which is yet the peculiar contempt of Materialism)
that gives rise to the imagination of a conflict between
law or order, and the special action of the Divine Will,
in any case. Eor if we remove the wholly human element
of imperfection, all such possible discrepancy disappears. In
this conception of the Highest, all arbitrariness vanishes, and
the whole order of nature is apprehended as simply a con-
tinued efflux of Infinite Power and Wisdom.

SECTION II.

ILLUSTEATIVE (INDUCTIVE) EVIDENCE,

§ IL_CHAPTEE I.

COSMICAL AEEANGEMENTS.

In the course of our previous argument we have assumed
that nature everywhere presents an aspect of Okder. This
we were quite warranted in doing from the universal testi-
mony of Science ; and on this assumption our argument
advanced directly to its conclusion. Mind was found entitled
to stand at the head of nature as its only valid explanation.
With a view, however, to the complete exliibition of the
theistic doctrine, it is necessary to return to the minor
premiss of our syllogism, and unfold it at length. It is only
by a detailed exposition of the fact of order, as it reveals
itself in manifold forms in nature, that we can fully show
"that there is an all-powerful, Wise, and Good Being, by
whom everything exists."

We begin our illustrative survey with the most general
and comprehensive phenomena that can engage us ; those,
namely, disclosed by astronomy. The celestial arrangements
are at once the most simple and the most magnificent of
which we have any knowledge — the most independent, and at

84 THEISM.

the same time the most widely influential, of all others. Astro-
nomical science, above every other, has enlarged and trans-
formed our conceptions of the universe. Has the grand
utterance of ancient piety, " The Heavens declare the glory
of God,'' lost anything of its meaning in the light of modern
discovery ? Or have the ever-expanding disclosures of the
telescope only added to it a depth and grandeur of meaning
hitherto inconceivable ? We will endeavour in this chapter
to find an answer to these questions.

The general character of our solar system may be said to
be now familiar to the common intelligence. It is composed,
so far as has hitherto been discovered, of eight planetary
bodies of what is called first-class magnitude, surrounding
the sun at different distances, with a comparatively nume-
rous group of smaller bodies circling between the orbits of
Mars and Jupiter. Previous to the year 1845 there were
only reckoned four of these lesser bodies ; but, on the 8th of
December of that year, a fifth member of the group was dis-
covered by Hencke ; and, since then, yearly observation has
been adding to their number.* It is, moreover, only a few
years since the last we know of the larger order of planets
was discovered. Previously, Uranus was supposed to be the
outermost of our system ; but, in the year 1846, the inde-
pendent calculations of two students "j* conducted almost
simultaneously to the discovery of another planetary body
removed far beyond the orbit of Uranus, and circling round

* Up to the present date no fewer than thh-ty-two of these smaller bodies have
been discovered, chiefly through the labours of an English observer, Mr Hind,
t Leverrier and Adams.

COSMICAL AEEANGEMENTS. 85

the sun in about double its year. The extent of the solar
system was thus immensely augmented. Before, it was cal-
culated to embrace a portion of space not less than three thou-
sand six hundred millions of miles in diameter. But now
this vast tract has been to our view nearly doubled. Almost
twice the distance of Uranus, another world has been found
attached to our system, and revolving in the warmth of
our sun.

But the solar system, stupendous as it is, occupies only a
small portion of the expanse of space. Even to the eye,
that space is seen to be peopled with a multitude of starry
bodies, of a character quite different from those that move
around our sun ; and the telescope brings into view not
merely thousands, but millions of these bodies. The great
zone of the Milky Way, which has in all ages arrested atten-
tion from its peculiar appearance, is found, on the application
of the telescope, to verify the conjecture of an ancient philoso-
pher, and to be nothing else than a pathway of stars, so densely
crowded as to be separately indistinguishable to the unaided
eye. These countless orbs Science teaches us to regard as
suns similar to our own, with attendant planetary trains,
although actual traces of these latter can scarcely be said
to be yet discovered. Eveiy bright and twinkling point
above us, that seems to stand as a mere brilliant gem in
the nocturnal crown of our earth, is probably the lumi-
nous centre of a system often far exceeding that to which
we belong. Eor, shining as many of the stars do, with
a brilliancy greatly more intense than that of our sun

86 THEISM.

(Sirius is reckoned equal to sixty-tliree suns), it is only a
likely inference that they irradiate and control much vaster
systems.

But not only has Science taught us to see in the starry
firmament unnumbered repetitions of simple systems resem-
bling our own ; it has, moreover, disclosed binary systems,
and even triple and quadruple, and higher combinations, all
entering into the scheme of the stellar universe. The mind
is thus not only transported in space far beyond our system ;
the magnitudes and distances with which it makes us
familiar are not only enlarged beyond all our powers of ima-
gination— the nearest star (a Centauri) being not fewer than
twenty millions of millions of miles away from us, or about
seven hundred times farther removed from our sun than the
planet Neptune ; — we are further introduced into wholly new
orders of worlds, marked by the most wonderful diversities.
"What strange and interesting changes alone must result
from the simplest of the combinations which we have men-
tioned ! If we suppose, as it is allowable to do, that each
of the suns in such a system has its attendant planets, how
novel the physical conditions ! how singular the complexities
of relationship wdiich they must present ! " Besides passing
through the varying climates of a year, depending on its
revolution around its own luminary, every planet of either
system must undergo the changes of another cycle, whose
course is the great period of the Binary system, and which
at one of its terms must subject it to the influence of two
suns virtually in contact ! And as to the movements of

COSMICAL AREANGEMENTS. 87

bodies acted on by forces so strange and fluctuating, we
can have little other idea except that it is a sequence or
succession of houleversements, the virtual periodic overthrow-
ing by each sun of the independence of the system estab-
lished by the other, which again is to recover itself in so far
during the years leading to their elongation/' * If we add
to these considerations the well-ascertained fact of the diver-
sity of colour which distinguishes not a few of the double
stars,-]- we shall derive a still more striking impression of
the peculiarities of Existence to be found in the stellar
spaces — peculiarities doubtless increasing in novelty and
intricacy with the ascending complexity of the starry
groups. In the language of Sir John Herschel, " it may be
easier suggested in words than conceived in imagination
what a variety of illumination two stars — a red and a green,
or a yellow and blue one — must afford a planet circulating
around either ; and what cheering contrasts and grateful
vicissitudes — a red and a green day, for instance, alternating
with a white one and with darkness — must arise from the
presence or absence of one or other, or both, from the
horizon ! ''

But all this even by no means exhausts the extent of view
or variety of cosmical life which the telescope has revealed
to us. We are enabled, by the light of recent astronomy,

* NiCHOL's Architecture of the Heavens, p. 217.

+ Stnive records that in at least one liiindred and four binary systems the
two stars exhibit the complementary colours— that is, the colour of one con-
stituent belongs to the red or least refrangible end of the spectram, while that
of the other belongs to the violet or most refrangible Qxtvemity. —Ihid., p. 218.

88 THEISM.

to penetrate to still vaster depths and hitherto unimagined
worlds. In various quarters of the heavens the telescope
has discovered patches of dim hazy light, now well known
by the name of Nebulce. Some of these were from the first
recognised to be dense clusters of stars, only rendered indis-
tinct and nebulous from their immense remoteness ; others,
however, were supposed to possess a quite distinct character
— to be portions of diffused gaseous matter incapable of being
resolved by any telescopic power, but, as was conjectured, in
the course of being condensed into separate stars. And so
generally did this view prevail for a while, that an hypo-
thesis was built upon it to explain the whole course of
cosmical creation. Many of the phenomena, however, upon
which this hypothesis rested, have been found to lose their
supposed character of distinction under the application of
Lord Eosse's magnificent telescope, so recently brought to
the service of astronomy. Nebulous masses, previously
irresolvable, have been at once resolved by it. What had
seemed only dim patches of twilight haze, as yet unformed
into suns, are discovered to be already systems of countless
suns o-lowino; with ancient fire.

The great conclusion to which these nebulous phenomena
everywhere point is, that the starry firmament of which our
system is a part, is only a member of innumerable galaxies
of firmaments that people the tracts of space. The millions
of suns that shoot towards us their arrowy light from such
immeasurable distances, and the millions of systems attached
to them, are after all, as it were, an insignificant portion of

COSMICAL AEEANGEMENTS. 89

the suns and systems that actually exist. Beyond the
limits of our sidereal firmament, and with what spaces of
desert and trackless gloom intervening we cannot in the
feeblest degree imagine, there lie other firmaments, it may
be far vaster and grander than our own. Looking out far
beyond the milk-white girdle of our own galaxy, we are
transported into regions where other galaxies lie all
around, some of them of the most strange and marvellously
impressive shapes. " Improbable as it must have seemed,''
says Dr Nichol,* " previous to discovery by unimpeachable
observation, the spiral figure is characteristic of an exten-
sive class of galaxies. Majestic associations of orbs, arranged
in this winding form — ^branches, as above, issuing like a
divergent geometric curve from a globular cluster, — these
rise up on all sides as the telescope journeys onward, sup-
planting shapes formerly imagined to be most simple, be-
cause of their obscurity.'' Unexhausted marvels thus crowd
upon us as we penetrate into space ; for, after all that the
telescope has even now revealed, we know not what may
still lie beyond. \Vhen we remember that, in order to
enable us to see anything by the telescope or otherwise,
light must reach us from it, may there not be firmaments so
immeasurably distant as to be beyond our utmost powers of
vision? So distant are some of the ascertained nebulas
that their light is not supposed to reach us in less than
fifty thousand or sixty thousand years. How true may it
be, then, that there may be many starry shores in the sea of

* Architecture of the Heavens, p. 94.
G

90 THEISM.

immensity, bright with a beauty of their own, no ray from
which ever shines on us.

If we now turn from the first bewildering view of these
vast cosmical revelations to contemplate them more steadily,
we find throughout all the august presence of Oedee. Even
in those twilight regions, in which the telescope is our only
g-uide, and among phenomena whose very existence it strug-
glingiy essays to determine, we find ever, along with the
mere fact of existence, indications of arrangement. Speaking
of those most recent marvels of cosmical being, the spiral
nebulae, Dr Nichol testifies that, mysterious and bewilder-
ing as seem such shapes, they " have nothing in common
with the fantastic creations of a dream. It is the essence of
these nebulse that they are not formless, but, on the con-
trary, impressed indelibly by system on the grandest scale :
clearly as a leaf, they have an organism ; something has
seized on their enormous volumes, and moulded them into a
wonderful order.'' *

Passing to our own galaxy, and the diversified phenomena
which it presents, we can, in the nature of things, trace more
distinctly the indications of system. Besides the motions to
which we have already referred of multiple stars around one
another, revealing such grand and peculiar varieties of
order, it may now be said to be established that there is
a general motion pervading our galaxy. So long ago
as 1783, Sir William Herschel was impressed with the
fact of our sun being in movement, and this fact has at
length been amply verified. The sun's course is found to be

* Architecture of the Ueavens^ p. 100.

COSMICAL AREANGEMENTS. 91

towards the constellation Hercules, and the rate even of his
progress has been calculated. As there can exist no doubt
that this solar motion is only a type of what prevails among
the stars generally, we are thus led to the conclusion of a
grand galactic movement. Whatever credit may be due to
Professor Madler s conjecture, that the present position of
one of the Pleiades (the star Alcyone) represents the apparent
position of the common centre of force to the firmamental
system, there cannot be any question that our sun and the
other stars are revolving round such a distant centre.
And this mighty movement, however we may more particu-
larly regard it, is a vast harmonious one, shared in by the
several orbitual systems. The subordinate movements of so
much variety and complexity unite in the general proces-
sion, which sway, as with an instinct of brotherhood, all the
members of the galaxy. There is no appearance of disorder
or disruption. One vast government guides the whole.

As far as we can penetrate, therefore, and wherever we
trace existence, we trace, at the same time, order. The
discoveries of astronomy, in their widest and most marvel-
lous bearings, are simply revelations of hitherto hidden
harmonies.

And as we descend from these loftier stellar spaces — ^in
which, with all we see, we still see so imperfectly — to the
sphere of our own system, whose magnitudes and movements
have been so accurately determined, we find the evidences of
arrangement to multiply around us. This is only what we
might expect. While travelling, by the help of the tele-
scope, in regions so remote as those of stellar existence, we

92 THEISM.

can but faintly note the special combinations which there
exist. It is only far-off and partial glimpses of those higher
mechanisms we can catch. Darkness still overhangs the
bright route of the telescope. It is enough that what we do
see everywhere speaks of order.

But in the contemplation of our own planetary system,
we are not only able to mark the general presence of order, —
we can note and appreciate, moreover, the several special
conditions entering into the construction of the system, and
on which, as well as on the great pervading energies of
attraction and impulse, its maintenance depends. These
conditions are all so many instances of arrangement. This
has been recently so well shown by Dr Whewell in his
Bridgewater Treatise, that nothing almost remains to be
added to his impressive argument. We merely present one
or two of its features.

Among the most marked characteristics of our system is
the luminous nature of its central body. Nowhere else,
obviously, could light have been placed with equal advantage
for diffusion throughout the entire system. Now, wdience
this light ? It cannot be said that there is any necessary
connection between the mere matter of the sun and its
luminousness. According to the conjectures of astronomers,
indeed, the heat and light of the sun are not supposed to
reside in its mass, but in a coating or envelope which sur-
rounds it. Why, then, should it come to pass that this
coating of light should be, among the bodies of the system,
confined to the sun, just where it is peculiarly adapted for
use ? The mere position of the sun cannot furnish any

COSMICAL AREANGEMENTS. 93

adequate explanation of tliis. Its position displays the
fitness of the fact; but we are unable to recognise any
necessity for the fact in the position. The only admissible
conclusion is, that this was an express arrangement designed
for the purpose which it so obviously serves. Newton was
particularly impressed with the force of this conclusion. In
the first of his famous series of letters to Bentley, he has
expressed it with his wonted simplicity and force. Allowing
that matter would collect into masses by the power of
attraction, he believes that the sun and fixed stars might
thus be formed, supposing the matter Vv^ere of a lucid nature.
" But how,'' he continues, " the matter should divide itself
into two sorts, and that part of it which is fit to compose
a shining body should fall down into one mass and make a
sun, and the rest, which is fit to compose an opaque body,
should coalesce, not into one great body, like the shining
matter, but into many little ones ; or if the sun were at first
an opaque body like the planets, or the planets lucid bodies
like the sun, how he alone should be changed into a shining
body, whilst all they continue opaque ; or all they be changed
into opaque ones, while he continued unchanged, — I do not
think explicable by mere natural causes, but am forced to
ascribe it to the counsel and contrivance of a voluntary
Agent.''

The uniform character of the planetary motions presents
striking evidence of order. We find these motions to be all
in nearly circular orbits in the same direction, and in
nearly the same plane. There is here surely the clear im-
press of arrangement. For to what can we attribute this

94 THEISM.

uniformity, save to a uniform determination of original
impulse ? " There is but one circle ; tliere are an infinite
number of ovals. Any original impulse would give some
oval, but only one particular impulse, determinate in velocity
and direction, will give a circle. If we suppose the planet
to be originally projected, it must be projected perpendicu-
larly to its distance from the sun, and with a certain precise
velocity, in order that the motion may be circular. .
No one can believe that the orbits were made to be so nearly
circles by chance, any more than he can believe that a
target, such as archers are accustomed to shoot at, was
painted in concentric circles by the accidental dashes of a
brush in the hands of a blind man.'' * And this conviction
is greatly heightened when we bring into view the further
features of the planetary motions. For anything in the
nature of the case that we can see, any one of the planets
might have moved in a different direction, or in a different
plane ; but not one of them does so. It is not merely a
single uniformity which characterises their motions, but they
present exactly the same combination of uniformities. The
inference seems irresistible, that such a combination of
identical results could only spring from an identity of
purpose.

But the proof of arrangement comes out most strongly
when we contemplate the great end which these uniformities
of planetary movement subserve in the maintenance of the
system. Had a different determination been given to any
one of the elements of this movement, it is demonstrable

* Dr Whewell's Bridgewater Treatise, pp. 154, 156.

COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 95

that the stability of the system would have been impaired.
Had, for example, the orbits of the planets been of extremely
varied eccentricity, instead of being, as they are, nearly cir-
cular— had they moved in different directions, or in different
planes, it is undoubted that, under the existing law of gra-
vitation, their mutual interferences would have terminated
in confusion and destruction. Even as it is, the attraction of
the planets upon one another, as well as upon the sun, results
in a partial derangement, which, however insignificant over
a given space of time, it was for a time supposed might, in
the lapse of ages, end in breaking up the system. Under
the influence of their mutual attraction, changes are actually
going on in the motions of the planetary bodies ; the eccen-
tricity of the earth's orbit is diminishing, the moon is
approaching nearer the earth, and its motion in consequence
becomino; accelerated. So slight, indeed, is the course of
these changes, and so vast the cycle in which they run, that
they have been going on progressively from the earliest
observations to our own times. Yet, if they were unlimited,
it cannot be doubted that they would at length reach a
climax of subversion and ruin. And for some time it Avas
really uncertain whether our system might not thus be
tending, from the inherent character of its constitution, to
decay. Newton did not undertake to pronounce upon the
question ; but Lagrange and Laplace succeeded in showing
that this partial derangement, extending over such length-
ened periods, was yet only of limited operation. After
reaching a certain stage, reaction ensues. The orbits do not
continue to deviate in one direction ; but they deviate period-

96 THEISM.

ically now in this, and now in the opposite direction. The
planetary perturbations are not indefinitely progressive,
long as they continue in one direction, but oscillatory.
After reaching a certain height they return and correct
themselves. And what chiefly deserves our attention is,
that the special conditions of this periodical adjustment of
the planetary system are those uniformities of movement
which so prominently characterise the various bodies of the
system. " I have succeeded,'' says Laplace, " in demonstrat-
ing that whatever be the masses of the planets, in conse-
quence of the fact that they all move in the same direction,
in orbits of small eccentricity, and slightly inclined to each
other, their secular inequalities are periodical, and included
within narrow limits ; so that the planetary system will
only oscillate about a mean state, and will never deviate
from it except by a very small quantity.''*

When we turn from these special characteristics of the
planetary movements to the great law expressed in all, and
under which they all proceed, the same aptitude of appoint-
ment meets us. Wliile it cannot be said that of all
laws that of gravitation is the only conceivable one, the
only one compatible with the maintenance of the system,
it has yet been shown, in the clearest manner, that of all
others this law is at once the most fitting and the most
simple. It is owing alone to the particular measure of the
attractive force that the planets return regularly in the same
track, preserving with very slight deviations the same
periods in their revolutions. Had this force varied other-

* Spteme du Monde, book iv. chap. ii. p. 226, quoted by Dr Whowell, p. 164.

COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 97

wise than inversely with the square of the distance, this
regularity in the orbits of the planets would have been
entirely destroyed * It is remarkable, moreover, that this
is the only law save that of direct distance (otherwise
unsuitable) which is the same for spherical masses, such as
the planets, and for the separate particles composing them.
This is surely a significant and wonderful provision. The
mind is filled with a solemn sense of simplicity as it con-
templates the varied and beautiful operation of such a law,
alike binding the dew into glistening gems, and holding the
planets and the stars in their courses.

On the whole, we perceive everywhere among the celes-
tial phenomena, adaptation. Order meets us wherever we
turn our gaze. The old atheistic notion of chance has
wholly disappeared before the discoveries of science. Every-
where, therefore, in the course of our survey, the theistic
conclusion is impressively forced upon us. The agency of a
mighty Mind, working in all this order, is irresistibly mani-
fested. As of old, the " heavens declare the glory of God.''
In the language of Newton, " Elegantissima hcecce compages
solis, planetarum et cometarum (et stellarum) non nisi
consilio et dominio Entis cujusdatn potentis et intelli-
gentis oriri potuit."

In this conclusion we might rest securely on the grounds
already laid down. It is irrefragable, on our general basis
of reason. In reference, however, to certain objections
which have been specially urged against it in this region,
it deserves some further attention. Astronomy is the

* Dr Whewell's Bridgewater Treatise, p. 220.

yS THEISM.

favourite sphere of the scientific materialist. Wliatever
sciences may still linger within the domain of theology, this
is considered finally emancipated from its control. Those
same facts which to the reverent mind of Newton were so
irresistibly demonstrative of Divine power and wisdom, to
the minds of others are only indicative of a vast necessity,
which, unintelligent in its character, is by no means to be
considered perfect in its working. And this antagonism of
opinion, of ancient date, continues to live, and even to de-
velop itself with clearer prominence than ever, in our 23resent
modes of thought.

According to the modern school of scientific materialists,
the planetary and cosmical order is sufficiently explained by
the law of gravity. It is simply the necessary result of
this law, beyond which, as an explanation of the universe,
we are not competent to go. This mode of explanation,
if not distinctly announced by Laplace himself, has sought
confirmation in the tone of his reasoning in different parts
of the Systeme du Monde, and esj)ecially in his famous cos-
mogonic hypothesis. Laplace certainly discarded all notion
of design in connection with the planetary mechanism as
unphilosophical, and even ventured to point out in one
instance, in regard to the motion of the moon, how it
might have been, for the bestowal of light, more advantage-
ously arranged.*

M. Comte has however outstripped his master, and declares
the inconsistency of astronomy not only with the doctrine
of final causes, but with every idea of religion. He ridi-

* Systtme du Mo7ide, book iv, cliap. v. p. 266.

COSMICAL AERANGEMENTS. 99

ciiles the grand sentiment of the Psalmist with which we
set out, and pronounces that to minds "early familiarised with
true philosophical astronomy, the heavens declare no other
glory than that of Hipparchus, of Kepler, of Newton, and of
all those who have aided in establishing their laws/' "No
science," he says, "has given more terrible shocks to the
doctrine of final causes than astronomy. The simple know-
ledge of the movement of the earth must have destroyed the
original and real foundation of this doctrine— the idea of the
universe subordinated to the earth, and consequently to man.
Besides, the accurate exploration of our solar system could
not fail to dispel that blind and unlimited admiration which
the general order of nature inspired, by showing in the most
sensible manner, and in a very great number of different
respects, that the orbs were certainly not disposed in
the most advantageous manner, and that science permitted
us easily to conceive a better arrangement by the develop-
ment of true celestial mechanism since Newton. All the
theological philosophy, even the most perfect, has been
henceforth deprived of its principal intellectual function,
the most regular order being thence consigned as neces-
sarily established and maintained in our world, and even
in the whole universe, by the simple mutual gravity of its
several parts." *

The grounds on which we rest the doctrine of final
causes, and on which we consider it wholly untouched by
the discoveries of science, have already been sufficiently
explained. All, therefore, which demands our present atten-

* CoMTE, PhilosopUe Positive, tome ii. p. 36-38.

100 THEISM.

tion in this famous classical passage of atheism is, the asser-
tion of the necessity and explanatory sufficiency of the law
of gravity. Have we any right to regard this law as neces-
sarily existent ? Would it explain the phenomena in ques-
tion even if it were ?

Now, so far from our having any right to regard the law
of gravity as necessarily existent, the truth is, that it is a
mere assumption to speak of this law as existent by itself
at all. We know the law in certain phenomena — m those
orderly manifestations of which we have been speaking. It
is the expression of the relation of these phenomena, but
nothing more. It is the name by which we generalise and
- hold before our mind the action of these phenomena, but
^ nothing more. To regard it for a moment, therefore, by
itself, as a necessary power or property, to whose operation
we can conceive the cosmical order to be owing, is simply
to impose upon our imagination by a fiction ; and if it is
not so regarded, it amounts to nothing ; it explains nothing.
It simply assigns for the fact of the cosmical order, the fact ;
while yet our reason imperatively demands an explanatory
origin of this fact.

But even if we allowed the necessary existence of gravity,
it would not explain the whole order of phenomena before
us. Even if Ave granted it to be an independent property
working in matter, the position of the materialist would not
be made good. So far, indeed, it may be admitted, accord-
ing to the Laplacian cosmogony, that the simple operation
of gravity would account for the successive formation of the
planetary bodies, and their motion round a common centre ;

COSMICAL AEEANGEMENTS. 101

yet how much would this still leave unexplained ! Given
the nebulous mass and the force of gravity, it is conceivable
that, under the continued action of this force, the mass
would be broken up and condensed into separate parts, each
taking a necessary position and assuming a necessary mo-
tion. But, as has been urged, whence the existence of the
nebulous mass itself? Whence the peculiar character which
enabled it to separate and contract in the fitting way, and in
no other? Whence the determinate velocity of the primi-
tive movement, destined to such results, and no other?
Whence, particularly, certain phenomena which do not lie
in the plane of the planetary movements, nor proceed in
the same course, although, according to the Laplacian view,
all the generated motions must lie in the same plane, and
be in the same direction ? * To such questions the theory
gives no answer. Gravity, therefore, even if admitted to
be the cause of the planetary order so far, entirely fails to
account for that order as a whole. Even if necessary, it
is inadequate as a source of explanation.

In truth, and in conclusion, the Laplacian cosmogony,
while interesting as a speculation, and serving to point, as
by a venturous aim, the path of knowledge beyond the exist-
ing order of things, is yet, no less than any other cosmogonic
theory, wholly worthless as a final explanation of things.

* When Laplace proposed his hjqwthesis, it was beheved that not only the
planets, but their satellites, all moved in the same direction, from west to east ;
''but since that time," says Sir D, Brewster, "all the satellites of Uranus
have been found to move in an opiJosite direction ; and Mr Hind has very re-
cently found that the satellite of Neptune also moves in the oi^posite direction •
thus proving that the hypothesis is utterly incapable of explaining the celestial
motions." — More Worlds than One, p. 122.

102 THEISM.

To suppose it for a moment to be such an explanation, were
not merely to exalt man to be the interpreter, but the God of
nature. It were to constitute his proud dreams the measure
of existence in the most daring sense, and verily, with Comte,
to make the heavens reflect his glory. The highest, which
is also the most reverent reason, at once shrinks from and
contradicts such pretensions. It allows the speculation
for what it may be worth, but utterly disallows it as a final
efficient explanation. Here, as everywhere, we can only
rest in an original self-subsistent Mind, in which the whole
cosmical order lives, and from which it ever proceeds. This,
the conclusion in which the great intellect of Newton rested,
is that which the common reason universally demands, and
in which alone it can find satisfaction evermore.

STEUCTUEE OF THE EAETH. 103

§ II.—CHAPTEK 11.

STEUCTUEE OF THE EAETH.

Descending from the contemplation of the celestial order,
in the composition of which our globe is only an insignifi-
cant element, we turn our attention to the massive structure
of that globe itself We carry our illustrative survey from
the vast regions and unnumbered worlds, lying all around us
in space, and with which we are only enabled dimly to con-
verse, to the bosom of that familiar earth on which we
dwell, and which everywhere invites our inspection.

We are prepared to trace order here, as in the far-off
regions we have been traversing. To the untutored eye,
the mass of our earth may seem a mere vast conglome-
ration, even as the heavens seem a mere mazy dance of
sparkling lights ; but as science has disclosed the magnificent
system of the one, so has it unfolded the special structure
of the other. As in the heavens we still read in the blaze
of modern astronomy the glory of God, so in the crust of the
earth do we read, in the light of modern geology, the im-
press of Divine power and wisdom. As we confine our

104 THEISM.

attention here to the massive construction of this crust, a
few words will suffice to bring before us the facts which the
subject involves.

The component rocks of the earth are divided into two
great classes — stratified and unstratified. The latter repre-
sent the oldest, and, so to speak, the original -material of the
earth. They constitute its solid basement. The foundations
of the structure are laid in granite. The hard and agglu-
tinated character of these rocks favours the supposition that
they were originally in a state of fusion. There cannot, at
least, be any doubt that they are of igneous production.
Their unworn and angular crystals clearly point to such a
mode of production.

The stratified rocks, in all their varieties, present different
peculiarities of formation. Those which lie immediately
above the unstratified granitic mass, closely resemble the
latter in character : they are in fact composed of the same
constituents, diff'erent only in the form and proportion in
which they are aggregated. Their crystalline texture betrays
the same fiery agency which discovers itself in the parent
rock. At the same time, they bear marks of distinctive origin.
Their crystals are worn and abraded by the action of atmos-
pheric and aqueous influences. Yet the igneous character
is here still predominant ; and, as might be expected, in the
fire-locked embrace of these primary rocks there is to be
found no trace of organic existence.

Above what we may call this hard and unfossiliferous
basis, the fossiliferous rocks rise in an ascending series, com-
prehending various systems which geologists have grouped

STRUCTURE OF THE EARTH. 105

into three great periods or ei^ochs, successively called Palceo-
zoic, Secondary, and Tertiary. The Palaeozoic group, which is
next in age to the metamorphic rocks, comprehends the vast
systems of the lower and upper Silurian, the Old red sand-
stone, and the Coal-measures. The crystalline texture of the
previous rocks disappears, save among the lowest of these
strata, and a clayey or sandy texture takes its place, dis-
covering the more powerful working of those atmospheric
and aqueous influences which we have mentioned. Here,
also — as the name of the group implies — in the Llandeilo flags
of the lower Silurian, we find the first traces of organic
being, which henceforth multiply, in endless and marvellous
forms, in the onward course of the earth's growth. In the
great carboniferous system we perceive in a very large de-
gree the operation of a further influence in the formation of
the earth's crust — the submersion and depression, namely, of
organic remains. This, in the ascending history of our globe,
is one of the most extensive of all the causes contributing to
the earth's formation, in respect not merely of vegetable,
but also of animal remains. The former, it is well known,
are the peculiar ingredient of the vast coal-measures. In them
we behold the deposition of the enormous vegetation which,
in the carboniferous era, must have overspread the earth —
vegetation in com23arison with which, it has been said, the
existing jungle of the tropics is mere barrenness.

In the secondary period we have, as in the Palseozoic, three
great systems, the New red sandstone, the Oolitic, and the
Chalk — the Oolitic being especially remarkable as the era of

H

106 THEISM.

those gigantic reptiles, whose strange and fearful forms at
once amaze the ignorant and interest the curious.

With the tertiary period — with whose subdivisions, as
laid down by Lyell, and generally accepted by geologists,
we need not here concern ourselves — we approach our own
era. We meet with animals of dimensions, indeed, far ex-
ceeding any with which we are now familiar, but in struc-
ture allied to existing species. We are carried forwards to
an arrangement of physical conditions not differing widely
from the present.

Such is a brief statement of the successive materials, so to
speak, which compose the structure of the earth. Imperfect
as it is, it is sufficiently complete for our purpose. In the
mere facts thus disclosed, there seems already evidence of
the order for which we seek. The actual structure of the
earth, however, is something very different from that now
suggested. It is not built up in the manner we have de-
scribed, with the successive systems regularly laid upon one
another, as they were progressively formed — the earliest
everywhere lowest, and the latest highest. If such had been
its actual construction, that construction would probably
have for ever remained a secret to us. We could not have
penetrated to its deep and hidden foundations. As it is,
however, we are enabled to explore the whole structure, and
find order and beauty in it, through means which might have
seemed only destined to insure its destruction. Its founda-
tions have been laid bare to us ; while its later architecture
lies equally exposed, not in mere disrupted fragments, but in
vast and orderly terraces. The fact is, that in the process of

STEUCTURE OF THE EAETH. 107

the earth's formation, during the long periods which had been
employed in the gradual deposition of the various strata in
the order of time we have described, those igneous agencies
concerned in the production of the earliest rocks continued
at work, breaking up and dislocating the incumbent strata,
and forcing the granite upwards in all directions. To the
same causes the different species of trap-rocks, piercing up-
wards in great veins, owe their elevation — causes which we
still see in some degree active in our volcanoes. Whatever
theory may be held as to the special intensity of these causes
in the past periods of the earth's history — whether we adopt
a catastrophic or a uniformitarian hypothesis — the result
is the same. The granite, which is everywhere the base of
the earth's crust, has yet been elevated far above all the
posterior strata. It is no longer merely the impenetrable
foundation or central abutment of the rocky systems ;
but it stretches upwards in vast branches, forming, so to
speak, a skeleton framework for the earth. Somewhat as
the bony skeleton in the living body everywhere ramifies
it, giving streng-th and consistency to all its parts, so the
granitic framework pierces on all sides throughout the
earth's crust, compacting and consolidating it into its pre-
sent state. And even somewhat as the muscular tissues
and folds of flesh overlie the bony skeleton, and find in it
their ultimate points of support, so do the various rocky
tissues, the successive folds of softer material, rest against
the mountain masses. We must surely in all this trace evi-
dence of special arrangement. " It is not," as Dr Chalmers
has said, '' from some matter being harder than others that

108 THEISM.

we infer design ; bnt when we see the harder placed just
where it is most needed, the inference seems irresistible."
And in the present case it is surely impossible to contem-
plate the peculiar disposition of the granite in our earth, with-
out recognising that so it must have been placed. The very
terms which we are compelled to use in speaking of it, after
the least theological fashion, imply so much. That so it is
by any mere accident, is altogether inconceivable. The enor-
mous agencies concerned in the elevation of the granite —
could we have seen them operating — might have seemed
merely blind and lawless ; but the result is order, and we
cannot help concluding that some presiding mind has been at
work. The granite has been upheaved, it may be, by con-
vulsive agencies of a magnitude and intensity far beyond any
of which we have now experience ; the superimposed strata
have been rent, and tossed hither and thither. The vast
process by which this was accomplished might have seemed
mere wild confusion. Eut pierce and bore the earth in all
directions, there is really nothing like confusion. The term
is indeed unknown to science, and to no science more than
to geology, immense and catastro23hic, according to the most
common opinion, as are the changes with which it has to do.
Let the granite, for example, rise to whatever heights — let it
tower in whatever alpine magnitudes — we never find that
its proper, or what we might call its constitutional }>osition,
is altered : the foundations are still granite, if the oranitic
mass yet stretch in cleaving branches through the sedimen-
tary strata, and far overreach their roof

STRUCTURE OF THE EARTH. 109

And even so of all the different strata over the diversi-
fied surface of the earth ; they all of them lie, as we have
mentioned, severally exposed, — characterising, in their dis-
tribution, different countries and localities. The old red
sandstone and carboniferous systems of the jDalseozoic era,
for instance, form the immediate platform of large tracts of
our island. The oolitic system of the reptilean era marks its
eastern seaboard, while the chalk extends on the south and
south-east. The whole economy of the terrene architecture
is thus laid bare. It is spread out for our inspection ; but,
while all the various depositions thus appear on the surface,
there is no confusion in their relative positions. They are
never found at random — one set of strata being now below
and then above another set — but always occupying the same
relation to one another. If we find, for example, the lower
Silurian formation exposed in Wales, it is everywhere found
to rest directly on the granite ; if we find the old red sand-
stone in Devonshire, it again rests on the silurian, and the
carboniferous system again on it. We never find the
Silurian imposed on the old red sandstone, nor the chalk
below the oolitic. A set structure is surely here in the
clearest manner discernible. We cannot well conceive any
higher idea of structure than just such a special distribution
of parts, — the parts of the same character being always
found in the same place, in relation to the others.

The order, indeed, which the mass of our earth discovers,
is on a vast and comprehensive scale, which may not very
readily fall in with our preconceptions or fancies. Man's

110 THEISM.

feebleness is apt everywhere not merely to limit, but to spoil
his judgments, so that order is perhaps more easily seen by
him in mere neatness and formality, than in the bursting
and glorious fulness of Nature's own form. Could the crust
of our earth, for example, have preserved that appearance of
uniform regularity which would have followed from the con-
tinuance of the sedimentary strata in the successive positions
of the order of their formation — had it been a granite
nucleus surrounded, in the words of Dr Buckland, " by entire
concentric coverings of stratified rocks like the coats of an
onion," and could we have been cognisant of this regularity,
it might, we dare say, have impressed many more than the
actual structural appearance which it presents. The order
in the one case might have seemed more direct and apparent
than in the other. But as it is, it is undoubtedly a far
more glorious order — the product of a boundlessly compre-
hensive Plasticity, moulding the most mighty and appa-
rently lawless agencies to the most magnificent, yet most
exquisite results, and the more perfect just as it may
transcend our feebleness and awaken our wonder.

Apart from the disruptive movements of which our earth
has been the scene, it would not have presented any of
its characteristic and beautiful variety of hill and valley,
of glen and stream. Its surface would have been a mere
uniform level, without life or picturesqueness ; its rivers
mere sluggish canals ; its whole aspect destitute of that
interchangeable sweetness and grandeur, softer loveliness
and rugged magnificence, which now makes it so glorious

STKUCTUEE OF THE EARTH. HI

a mirror of Power and Wisdom and Goodness. To the same
causes obviously does it also owe its peculiar fitness as the
abode of human life. For otherwise the metals, without
some knowledge of which man has never been able to rise
above barbarism, would have been for ever concealed in
their native crypts. Coal would have been sunk at an im-
penetrable depth, which no eye could have seen, and no skill
have reached. And where, again, would have been our
oceans, with no vast hollows to repose in ? But it is need-
less, and even absurd, to make such suj^positions. We have
only done so for a moment, in order to make it clear how
the mighty agencies which have been concerned in the pre-
sent structure of the globe, wild and convulsive as they may
have been, have been directed by the most far-reaching
foresight to purposes of human improvement and happi-
ness. They were only the tools in the Divine hand for the
construction of man's abode. Far from being, in any sense,
interferences with the terrene architecture, they were
the very means by which it has been built up into the
special order, at once most beautiful and most appropriate
for him.

In contemplating the great movements which geology
reveals, it is important to observe further how completely
dependent they appear. In those disruptive agencies, as well
as in the various atmospheric, aqueous, and organic influences,
under the operation of which the earth has assumed its pre-
sent structure, it seems impossible that any one could for a
moment find the ultimate explanation of the phenomena

112 THEISM.

presented. If there are minds content to linger among the
ultimate harmonies of astronomy, which stand forth so pal-
pably to the intellectual view, we cannot yet imagine any
abiding by the final agencies of geology, as if they carried
with them any self-sustaining or efficient energy. They
appear in the highest degree to be simply instrumental,
— the merely blind agencies of a creative and designing
Mind.

DIVINE POWER. 113

§ IL_CHAPTEE III.

COSmCAL AND TERRESTEIAL MAGNITUDES — DIVINE POWER.

In the two previous chapters we have dwelt mainly on the
celestial and terrestrial structures, as evincing an intelligent
First Cause. It is order, as such, we have been contemplat-
ing. We have glanced but slightly at the peculiar evidence
which the phenomena both of astronomy and geology fur-
nish of immense power concerned in their creation and
maintenance. So striking and impressive, however, is this
evidence, that it seems right to devote a brief chapter to its
statement. The phenomena in question bring before us,
more signally than any other, an all-powerful as well as
wise Being.

It is of course obvious, according to our whole plan of
treatment, that we do not present this illustrative evidence
as a logical proof of the Divine omnipotence. We do not
profess to find the infinite in the mere bewildering magni-
tude and duration of the finite. This was indicated already
in our introductory remarks. Yet it deserves to be noticed,
that the only conceivable way in which the infinite could be

114 THEISM.

exhibited and impressively set forth to finite beings, is by-
such an array of phenomena as the sciences of astronomy
and geology unfold to us — namely, by an accumulated dis-
play of vast magnitudes and apparently interminable dura-
tions. If we do not amid such views logically reach the
infinite, we are yet carried onwards to it, on the wings of an
imagination which in vain essays to grasp the immensity of
the fields of contemplation open to it.

The simple extent of the celestial space, briefly exhibited
in our first chapter, is well calculated to fill our minds with
vast ideas of Divine power. Looking out from beyond our
earth, the sphere of observation extends immeasurably on
all sides. Inexhaustible to the naked eye, it is equally
inexhaustible when, by the aid of the telescope, we are car-
ried into regions so inconceivably remote that the mind
sinks utterly overwhelmed by the spectacle. Neptune circles
round the sun at a distance of nearly three thousand millions
of miles ; the nearest fixed star (a Centauri) is seven hundi'ed
times farther removed ; while the bright Dog-star, according
to the parallax given to it by Professor Henderson, is almost
four times farther off* than a Centauri, or about eighty bil-
lions of miles ! These distances, however, inconceivable as
they are, are nothing to those of the nebulous clusters which
people the more inaccessible tracts of space, whose light, it
is stated, can only reach us in thousands and even millions
of years.* There is, in short, no limit to creation. In the
expanse of cosmical phenomena we have assuredly, there-

* Sir J. Herschel's Astronomy, § 590.

DIVINE POWEK. 115

fore, the only visible type of the infinite that it was possible
for us to possess.

If from the mere boundless expanse of the cosmical
regions we turn to contemplate some of the special magni-
tudes and velocities with which they make us familiar, the
attribute of power will perhaps display itself even more
strikingly. Let the mass of our earth, possessing a diameter
of about eight thousand miles, and of which we may be
supposed to have some not indistinct conception, be taken
as our starting-point. Enormous as it is, it dwindles into a
mere point among the stellar magnitudes, and becomes even
small beside its planetary companions. Jupiter is fourteen
hundred times larger, and Saturn nearly the same size,
encircled by a gorgeous envelope or ring which, it has been
said, would enclose five hundred worlds as large as ours.*
The mass of the sun itself is three hundred and fifty-four
thousand nine hundred and thirty-six times that of the earth.
It would not only fill up the orbit of the moon, but would
extend nearly as far again. But this is as nothing compared
with the mass of some of the stars. Who can conjecture
the magnitude of a body which woidd fill the vast orbit of
the earth? But the bright star in Lyra has a diameter
which, it has been said, would fill even that orbit.f And
among the nebulous stars some are supposed to be of even
greater dimensions.

Let us think, then, of the force concerned in the move-
ments of such enormous masses. A cannon-ball projected

* Dick's Celestial Scenery, p. 274.

t Harris's Pre- Adamite Earth, p. 145.

116 THEISM.

from the mouth of a gun moves at the rate of about a thou-
sand miles an hour, which is the rate of the diurnal motion
of the earth at the equator ; but the velocity of the earth's
motion round the sun is sixty-five times faster than this.
" Juj^iter, equal in weight to fourteen hundred earths, moves
with a velocity of 29,000 miles an hour. The rate of Mer-
cury is 107,000 miles an hour. The velocity of the comet
of 1680 is estimated at 880,000 miles an hour.""* The
annual motion of one of the (fixed I) stars, 61 Cygni, has
been computed at one hundred and twenty millions of mil-
lions of miles. How mighty and transcending is the power
displayed in these celestial masses and movements ! It is
certainly quite impossible that the conception of an all-
powerful Being could have been more impressively set
forth to the human mind. Tor whatever limit is at length
reached in such contemplations does not arise from the
exhaustion of evidence, but from the feebleness of our men-
tal capacity to grasp the phenomena presented to it.

The vast periods of geology, and the immense forces that
must have operated in the formation of the earth, are
eminently calculated to give us the same impression of an
eternal and omnipotent Being. The data with which the
science of geology furnishes us, are not, indeed, so indisput-
able as those furnished by astronomy. For while there are
some who estimate the geological cycles by millions of years,
there are others who strive to bring them within much
narrower bounds ; while there are some who recognise
the agency of elemental forces in the past career of the

* Haruis's Pre- Adamite Earth, p. 148.

DIVINE POWER. 117

earth, of a magnitude of which we have now no expe-
rience, there are others who contend for a uniformity of
those agencies with those presently existing. The character
of the agencies employed, it is clear, must be estimated
according to the different reckoning of the periods allotted
to the work. On any special geological hypothesis, how-
ever, the data are sufficiently significant for our purpose.
According to any admissible estimate, we find ourselves, in
tracing back the progress of the earth's formation, contem-
plating not a succession of days and years, but of ages and
cycles of ages. The epochs that must have elapsed since
the first great stones of the terrene structure were laid, and
while terrace after terrace was added to it, carry us back
into the night of time, far beyond the most fabulous com-
putations of History. We ascend into the past by steps
that weary our imagination to keep in view.

Again, the power concerned in the production of the vast
effects which we see around us would seem to be equally
indubitable, whether we assume them to have been brought
about by suddenly violent or by gradual action. On any
tenable supposition as to the mode of the elevation of the
Alps and the Andes to their present heights, we must s-urely
recognise in such phenomena the agency of a Power, before
which we can only bow in dumb and lowly reverence.
Here, surely, we behold the doing of the Almighty — of Him
before whom " the nations are as a drop of the bucket,'' and
who " taketh up the isles as a very little thing."

118 THEISM.

§ IL— CHAPTER IV.

ELEMENTAEY COMBINATIONS — CEYSTALLISATION.

Beneath the architectural structure of the earth, there is
an interior elementary structure of great interest and signi-
ficance. The stones of the building are not naerely disposed
in an orderly and fitting manner, but in the composition of
the stones themselves there is found an order of the most
exquisite kind. The separate masses of matter are not only
arranged ; but matter itself, with which we have been
hitherto only dealing in masses, presents a constitution of
the most exact and definite character, highly illustrative of
the Divine wisdom. As geology makes us familiar with
tlie mechanical, or, as we have termed it, architectural
structure of the earth, chemistry unfolds its elementary
constitution.

Chemists reckon at present upwards of sixty elementary
substances. This, however, is a merely provisional reckon-
ing, liable any day to alteration. A hitherto hidden bond
of identity may yet be discovered between many substances
which now obstinately resist identification. It is found, in

CKYSTALLISATION. 119

fact, that only a comparatively small number of these sub-
stances enter, to any large and pervading extent, into the
constitution of nature — viz., oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen,
carbon, and, among the metals, silicium and aluminium.
Oxygen is considered by far the most abundant substance in
the earth. United with hydrogen, it constitutes water ;
with nitrogen, and a comparatively small proportion of
carbon, it makes common air ; while it enters, at the same
time, largely into every kind of rock in the crust of the
earth. Carbon, again, is the main constituent of all vege-
table and animal matters ; and silicium, in nearly equal com-
binations with oxygen (making silica), is said to form the
basis of about half of the rocks of the earth.

There appears to us to be something profoundly impres-
sive in the contemplation of the few simple substances to
which we can thus trace back all the multiform diversity of
nature. How marvellous to reflect that the solid earth, the
compact rocks, the limpid stream, and the clear atmosphere,
the fields clothed with grass, and the valleys covered over
with corn, are only the varied combinations of a few elemen-
tary ingredients ! So plastic is Nature ! Science strips
ofi" the glorious forms in which she is everywhere robed,
and brings us into her secret laboratories. But surely
this does not diminish, but only heightens, the impres-
sion of wonderful intelligence which she everywhere reveals.
So exquisite did nature's forms seem to the Grecian mind,
that a Divine Presence seemed to speak from all of them.
Beside the beautiful there everywhere arose the spiritual.
The Oread, the Dryad, and the Nereid, were the graceful

120 THEISM.

embodiments of the plastic Life, that seemed thus to animate
the mountain, the forest, and the ocean ; and, surely, intel-
ligence is not less but more visible, that science shows
us the few ingredients which, in different combinations,
induce these diverse phenomena of nature. Although the
mystery has been so far unveiled, and we can look far
beyond the simple-hearted view of Paganism, yet we can-
not get rid of the truth to which it dimly testified. We
find ourselves among the last analyses of nature's pro-
cesses, more impressively than ever in the presence of a
living and presiding Intelligence.

This is in the highest degree evident, when we contem-
plate the special character of those elementary combinations
with which chemistry makes us acquainted : for it is ascer-
tained, not merely that all the great features and products
of nature are compounded of a comparatively few ele-
mentary ingredients, but that these ingredients everywdiere
combine only in certain definite and unvarying propor-
tions. They obey laws of the greatest simplicity and ex-
actness, " which never change, and which govern the for-
mation of compounds of all classes and descriptions.'' *
Thus " water, however produced, always consists of oxygen
and hydrogen, in the proportion of 8 parts of the former
to 1 of the latter by weight. Chalk, whether formed by
nature or by the chemist, yields 43.71 parts of carbonic
acid, and 56.29 parts of lime. The rust which forms
upon the surface of iron by the action of the atmo-
sphere, is as invariable in its composition as if it had been

* FoWNEs' Chemistnj, p. 39.

ELEMENTAEY COMBINATIONS. 121

formed by the most delicate adjustment of weight, by the
most accurate manipulator, being 28 parts of iron, and 12
parts of oxygen. This law is the basis of all chemical
inquiry.'" *

Where, again, the same elements unite, as they often do,
to form different bodies, such combinations are always
related as multiples. Thus, in the different compounds of
nitrogen with oxygen, we find that with the same propor-
tion of the former the latter unites only in the successive
ratios of 8, 16, 24, 82, and 40. " There are no intermediate
compounds whatever. And this law is perfectly general ;
whenever bodies combine in more than one proportion, a
relation of this kind between the quantities concerned can
be observed. It applies alike to elementary substances, and
to compounds formed by the union of bodies themselves
compound.'' f There may be an interruption in the series of
numbers, or the relation of the numbers may not be quite
so simple as in the case mentioned, but an exact numerical
relation is found to underlie all compounds. So, in the
gaseous state, bodies only unite according to exact measures
or volumes, depending upon the wonderful connection be-
tween the specific weight of a gas or vapour and its volume.
The volumes are always equal, or multiples the one of the
other, and any extra quantity that may be present is sure to
be left over when combination ensues.

It is impossible to conceive anything more grand and
simple than the mode in which the infinitely varied pro-
cesses of nature are thus carried on. By merely multiply-

* Hunt's Poetry of Science, p. 253. f Fownes' Chemistry, p. 41.

I

122 THEISM.

ing the proportion of one of the ingredients, the most diverse
substances are produced from the same elements. Thus, in
the case mentioned by us, and so often instanced for its
impressive simplicity — the combinations of oxygen with
nitrogen — the several compounds are well known to possess
the most different qualities — a definite increment of one of
the ino-redients making all the difference between a viru-
lently noxious poison and the breath of man's life. What
an unerring providence and skill does this evince in the
continual assortment of nature's elementary products !
What power, save an almighty one, could, from the mere
varying composition of the same few elements, produce all
this wonderful diversity of result ? What intelligence, save
an infinite one, could order and preserve with such a nice
adjustment the infinitely multiplied combinations so as not
to interfere with animal life and happiness ? What striking
and beautiful alliances, moreover, thus pervade nature !
Things apparently the most opposite are yet radically akin.
The pleasant nutriment and the noxious poison are of the
same parentage ; the rude lump of charcoal and the glitter-
ing diamond are the same substance. Matter is truly
kindred in all its forms ; nature a vast brotherhood, con-
fessing to the same Maker and the same Preserver.

But what perhaps especially claims our notice is, the
numerical exactitude thus found to lie at the root of
nature. In breaking up its rounded and beautiful forms,
they are found to rest on the most strictly arithmetical basis.
It is seen to be the most literal scientific truth that the
" mountains are weighed in scales and the hills in a balance.''

ELEMENTAEY COMBINATIONS. 123

As ill the miglity movements of the heavens we are dealing
with the most rigorous measurements ; so, in the minute
and hidden movements of matter, the great discovery of
Dalton shows us to be equally dealing with such measm^e-
ments. Whether or not we are justified in concluding all
that the atomic theory demands, the law of definite and
multiple proportions which it serves to express remains
indubitable ; and in contemplating the constitution of mat-
ter, this leaves us, in the last resort, face to face with
numerical order.

Whence, then, this order? Science has disclosed its
character ; what has it to say as to its explanation ? It
has expressed, under the name of chemical afl&nity, all that
it has to say on this subject. Elementary combinations
take place under the influence of an elective force, so
described with reference to the special dispositions to union
manifested by all ultimate particles. It is under the opera-
tion of this so-called force that the constant interchange and
balance of nature's ingredients are alone preserved, and
that its existing forms are maintained with such nice and
unvarying discrimination. As we have, in the wide region
of space, gravitation uniting all bodies, and drawing them
to common centres, so we have the attraction of cohesion
holding the masses of the different bodies together ; and
finally, chemical or elective attraction, serving by its occult
power to give determinate character or form to every kind
of material creation.* But, after all, science merely conceals
its ignorance by such general expressions. The laws in

* Hunt's Poetry of Science, p. 262.

124 THEISM.

question are simply the last reductions of its persevering
research ; and so far from their furnishing any adequate
explanation of the phenomena, they imj^eratively claim
themselves to be explained. It is only, according to our
whole argument, when we recognise in these general laws
the operative modes of a Supreme Intelligence, that we
reach a satisfactory meaning in nature, or an adequate
explanation of its order.

There is a further order of inorganic matter peculiarly
mathematical in its character, and well deserving our atten-
tion before proceeding to higher illustrations of our subject
— that, namely, which is expressed in the beautiful and
well-known j^henomena of crystallisation. If, among the
last results of chemistry, we find ourselves in the region of
numbers, we here become conversant with the exact forms of
geometry. Stones and minerals we are familiarly apt to
regard as not possessing any definite shape and structure —
an idea which lies with somewhat vitiating force at the
bottom of Paley's famous comparison of the stone found
upon the heath, and the watch. In fact, however, there
are few things so exactly defined as simple minerals ;
and this not only in their external figure, but peculiarly
in their interior and most hidden structure. Crystallisa-
tion, which is the ordinary state in which a great number
of the substances of the earth are found, is nothing else
than a regular geometrical form, accompanied by and
dependent upon a regular structure. It has been well
described to be a "peculiar and most admirable work of
nature's geometry ; '' and so minutely and elaborately has
nature wrought her geometrical patterns, that they are

CEYSTALLISATION. 125

found to reappear after the most minute subdivision.
Beneath the fixed variety of external or secondary forms
which crystalline bodies assume, there is an ultimate or
primitive form retained by the smallest particles of each
crystal. Thus, to employ the illustration of Dr Buckland,
"we have more than five hundred branches of secondary
forms presented by the crystals of the well-known substance
of carbonate of lime. In each of these we trace a five-fold
series of subordinate relations of one system of combinations
to another system, under which every individual crystal has
been adjusted by laws acting correlatively to produce harmo-
nious results.'' Again, he adds, " Every crystal of carbonate
of lime is made up of millions of particles of the same com-
l^ound substances having one invariable primary form — viz.,
that of a rhomboidal solid, which may be obtained to an
indefinite extent by mechanical division." * Some, as Pro-
fessor Moh, xeckon four, and others six, of these primitive
crystalline forms.

It is needless for us to dwell upon the abundant theistic
meaning which such phenomena present. The only concep-
tion which we can have of crystallisation, the definition by
which alone we can express it, indicates, in the clearest
manner, the working of intelligence. The geometric stamp
is impressed on the minutest particle. The die is inwrought
beyond the furthest process of cleavage or mere mechanical
division. Shiver the crystalline mass as we may, the figure
still lives. Where form is so deeply and curiously impressed,
we must surely recognise a Former. Nature's " admirable
geometry " irresistibly points to nature's great Geometer.

* Buckland's Bridgewater Treatise, j^p. 576, 577.

126 THEISU

IL— CHAPTER V

OEGAXISATIOX — DESIGN.

VCe have been hitherto tarrying amid the comparatively
simple and general phenomena of inorganic matter. By de-
grees we have advanced from the most simple and compre-
hensive to the more special and definite laws which mark
the inorganic world. We have contemplated the vast and
beautiful cosmical order subserved by the law of gravitation,
and the general laws of motion ; the structure of the earth
in its apparently irregular, yet most orderly flights of archi-
tecture— ^the constitution of matter, revealing relations so
exact, and a higher and more refined law of kindred or
elective attraction. ^Ve have further observed the regular
geometrical forms exhibited in ciystallisation — no longer
merely chemical compositions, but symmetrical arrangement.
Our illustrations have been thus of a progressive character.
Material order has been contemplated in an ascending series
of complexity, from the ruder form of mere mechanical adjust-
ment, to the higher forms of chemical affinity and geometric
adaptations.

OEGAXISATIOX — DESIGN. 127

Ciystallisation is the most perfect form assumed by inor-
ganic matter. It is the highest order we reach among inor-
ganic phenomena. There are, however, far higher, or at
least more complex and impressive, modes of order presented
to us in the material world, and bearing, therefore, as they
have been always supposed to bear, with a special force
upon the illustration of our subject.

Clearly marked as is the highest kind of inorganic order
which we have considered, it is yet, so to speak, a mere
outward order, proceeding from external junction of parts.
It is the result of force from without, and dependent upon
the direction and degTce of the compulsory application. On
the first view of organic phenomena, we are struck with
their essential difference in this respect. We contemplate no
longer merely a combination of outward relations, but a
product of inward forces. The material object is no longer
merely, as even in the case of the crystal, the result of
aggregation, of the external juxtaposition of particles ; it is
a living production forming itself from within. A new
power is seen stirring in matter — a power not only of selec-
tion or of adaptation, but of assimilation, and, moreover, of
reproduction. Inorganic matter, it has been well said,
only finds, organic makes, what is added to its structure;
recasting the inert substance, and exhibiting it in new
unions, not of binary merely, but of ternaiy and quaternary
combinations. The inorganic changes that on which it acts
chemically ; the organic vitalises, and imparts to the matter
which it vitalises the power of acting in the same way on
other substances. " This is the end and object of that series

128 THEISM.

of functions which, beginning with absorption, conveys the
absorbed matter throuo^h the stem into the leaves, then sub-
jects it to a process of exhalation, submits the rest to the
action of the atmosphere, conveys it back into the system,
elaborates it by secretion, and ends in assimilation. The
plant is also generative. The inorganic mass can only in-
crease by cohesion, by agglomeration from without. But
the plant ' hath its seed in itself It exists in generations.
Besides vitalising that which is necessary to the conservation
of each of its own parts, it is endowed with the power of
giving existence to a new whole, and of providing the germ
with the nourishment necessary for it, in order to commence
its independent being.'' *

These two attributes of assimilation and reproduction
mark off and determine organic matter, in its lowest forms,
from inorganic. They are the distinctive attributes of life in
its feeblest developments. Our knowledge of life begins
with them ; and beyond such manifestations of the vital ele-
ment— unsearchable in its hidden depths — our knowledge
will probably never reach. Whenever matter is found to
possess these properties, in contradistinction to the mere pro-
perties of chemical attraction or crystallisation, it is said to
be organised. If we inquire more particularly for a defini-
tion of organisation, that given by Kant seems to be acknow-
ledged to be the best. " An organised product of nature,"
he says, " is that in which all the parts are mutually means
and ends." It is not only, it will be observed, the idea of
dependence among the parts which is here expressed ; this

* Harris's Pre-Adamite Earth, p. 1G6.

OEGANISATION — DESIGN. 129

would not form an advance beyond the formerly considered
phenomena of matter. There is a beautifully coherent de-
pendence between the several particles of a crystal. But the
definition of Kant expresses further an adjustment or depend-
ence between all the different parts of an organised body, so
as to subserve the definite purpose of maintaining the whole
body ; and not only so, but the further idea that the mainte-
nance of the whole is essential to the maintenance of any of
the parts. It expresses, in short, the fact of a constantly
subsisting relation between all the parts on which the sub-
sistence of the whole depends. Such an interacting relation
does not exist between the several parts of an inorganised
body. We can, on the contrary, break up a crystal, as we
have seen, even indefinitely, without destroying its primitive
constitutive form. But let us take to pieces a plant, and,
destroying the living relation between the parts, we destroy
the organism. Organisation, in its simplest appearance,
presents, therefore, a more complex and delicate— so to
speak — a more subtle and essential species of order than any
which we have hitherto contemplated.

In this mere fact of organisation furnishing us with a
farther and more refined example of order, we have an addi-
tional illustrative evidence of Divine intelligence. We re-
cognise, with impressive force, the artist, in the higher
specimen of art before us. To the query, Wlience ? which
immediately arises here, as in the contemplation of all order,
we are carried, in answer, irresistibly back to a supremely
intelligent Will.

But is this all the theistic inference impressed upon us in

130 THEISM.

the contemplation of organic phenomena ? Is not design in
some sense peculiarly present in such phenomena ? Physi-
ology has been commonly supposed to be the special sphere
of the doctrine of final causes, and its study held to possess
a special interest and value in this respect. It will be well
to set clearly before the reader the distinctive relation of
this branch of the illustrative evidence to that presented by
the simple phenomena of inorganic matter, especially as this
relation has not always been apprehended in a just and dis-
criminatino^ lisjht.

First of all, then, it seems undoubted that the phenomena
of organisation do possess a certain peculiar impressiveness
in regard to the theistic argument. Merely as examples of
a higher and more curiously related order, they are, to many
minds at least, peculiarly suggestive of creative intelligence.
The elaborate texture and delicately-wrought colouring of
vegetable forms, or again, the manifold and complex felicities
of animal structures, may be conceived more vividly pregnant
with the idea of design, of wisdom concerned in the result,
than even the most perfect and mathematically regular com-
binations of inorganic matter. In this view Paley's often-
impugned comparison — the boldly-struck key-note of his
delightful work — may be so far justified. Taking the stone
gathered from the heath on the one hand, and the watch on
the other, there can be no doubt that the absolute contrast
which he institutes between them is not to be defended.
The stone is by no means destitute of those marks of work-
manship which we recognise so immediately in the watch ;
and to the inquiry, " how the stone came to be there?" these

OEaANISATION — DESIGN. 131

marks or characters, on examination, furnish an answer no
less decided than the special adjustment of the several parts
of a watch does as to its origin. Supposing the stone were a
crystal, we have seen how skilfully configured is such an
inorganic product ; supposing it only a rude mass of sand-
stone, without symmetry of form or beauty of lustre, it yet
appears, in the light of Dalton's great discovery, to be an
exquisitely-arranged compound; and its special composition,
whatever that might be, would be full of reply as to its
origin. Paley's comparison, therefore, fails when pushed to
the extent which he has implied ; but, when used as merely
serving to bring before the popular mind a more impressive
exhibition of design, it is sufficiently valid. A watch, with
its complicated mechanism of wheels and pulleys and
springs, causing a definite motion in a definite time, is ap-
parently the result of greater skill than any mineral composi-
tion, however exact. So at least it would doubtless seem to
most minds. In the same way, any flower or animal struc-
ture of peculiar delicacy and utility may be thought to
speak of God more plainly than even the most beautiful
and elaborate crystalline structure.

But farther than this— beyond such a higher utility in
the way of popular illustration — we cannot admit that
organic phenomena by themselves exhibit any peculiar
theistic meaning. They express the inference of design
more conspicuously, but this is all. This, we imagine, is
incapable of being disputed, on reflection. At the same
time, it appears to us that considerable confusion and in-
consequence of thought prevail upon this subject even among

132 THEISM.

some of our highest scientific thinkers. The relation of the
doctrine of final causes, in its fundamental theological
import, to the special scientific application which has been
made of it in physiology, is not apprehended with sufficient
clearness ; and a certain measure of doubt has been thus
allowed to rest on the subject, which seems to us perverting,
and even fatal, in reference to the general principle. Dr
Whewell, for example, has observed : "It has appeared to
some persons that the mere aspect of order and symmetry
in the works of nature — the contemplation of comprehensive
and consistent law — is sufficient to lead us to the conception
of a design and intelligence producing the order and carry-
ing into eff*ect the law. Without here attempting to decide
whether this is true, we may discern, after what has been
said, that the conception of design arrived at in this manner
is altogether different from that idea of design which is sug-
gested to us by organised bodies, and which we describe as
the doctrine of final causes. The regular form of a crystal,
whatever beautiful symmetry it may exliibit, whatever
general laws it may exemplify, does not prove design in the
same manner in which design is proved by the provisions
for the preservation and growth of the seeds of plants and
of the young of animals. The law of universal gravitation,
however wide and simple, does not impress us with the
belief of a purpose, as does that propensity by which the
two sexes of each animal are brought together.'' *

There is, according to what Ave have already said, a certain
measure of truth in this passage. The law of gravitation

* Lulications of the Creator, p. 130.

ORGANISATION — DESIGN. 133

does not impress us with the belief of purpose and design in
the same degree, perhaps, as does that '' propensity by
which the two sexes of each animal are brought together ;"
but surely there is nothing altogether different in the idea
of design in the two cases. It may be, that in the one case
the idea presents itself to our sensuous observation more
vividly, and is therefore entitled to guide us in our scientific
researches into physiological relations, in a way that would
be apt rather to mislead than assist the astronomer in his
researches among the heavenly bodies. Design, in short,
may not be with the astronomer, as with the physiologist,
an appropriate principle of discovery. The former does not
take it with him directly as a guide. The lower principle
of mere sequential induction sufficiently serves his purpose.
Yet if the higher principle be a reality and not a fiction,
it must meet the astronomer equally in the end. He
must ascend to it. He cannot rest, according to our
whole previous reasoning, in the mere relation of sequence
with which he sets out. The physiologist, on the other
hand, may be said to start with the principle of design
in possession, as a clue of discovery ; for the phenomena
with which he deals are no longer merely sequential,
but teleological. They express themselves not only as
related, but as related after the special manner of means and
ends. The principle of design has therefore, it may be
granted, a special application to these phenomena. So at
least it has been maintained by many of our highest physi-
ologists, and with apparent justice. Whereas in the one
case it is only the final answer to the inevitable inquiry,

134 THEISM.

Whence ? in tlie other it is present from the first, every-
where suggesting the inquiry, Why ?

Yet it must never be forgotten that design is only thus
present in the latter ease, because foimd in all cases, in rela-
tion to one class of phenomena as well as to another — inor-
ganic as well as organic — to establish itself as the only final
principle of explanation. It is only possibly present as a
scientific guide, because admitted as a theological principle.
It is only in the light of the ultimate rational necessity which
finds Mind everywhere in nature, that design, or the opera-
tion of Mind, can be especially maintained in organic pheno-
mena. This follows in the clearest manner from the whole
basis of our previous reasoning, and is indubitable on the
simple ground, that nature in no case of itself can gave us
Mind, but only reflects it in the mirror of our conscious-
ness. And assuredly there is no rational basis on which we
can conclude Mind to be thus reflected in one set of natural
phenomena and not in another. Now it is because the
lano'uaoe of Dr Whewell leaves this, as it were, in doubt,
that it appears to us objectionable. He puts aside the ques-
tion as to whether the mere aspect of order and symmetry
in nature is sufficient to lead us to the conception of design
and intelligence ; or, in other words, demands this conception
in order to its explanation. He puts aside this question as
one not necessarily aff"ecting the special scientific doctrine of
final causes ; whereas, according to our whole view, it is
one most vitally aff'ecting this doctrine, and without a clear
settlement of which, this doctrine cannot for a moment be
consistently maintained.

OEGANISATION — DESIGN. 135

The only theistic difference, then, in the phenomena now
before us, consists in the more vivid impression of Mind
which they give us. In the very conception of a set of
organs related to one another as means to ends, we have
intelligence directly suggested. The contrivance bespeaks
a contriver, yet only a contriver adequate to the special
result in each case. While here, therefore, we may be said
to be brought more immediately into the presence of Mind,
it may yet be doubted whether we are brought so near to
the first or supreme Mind as among the general laws of
astronomy and chemistry. The comparative value of the
respective phenomena for the theistic conclusion may in
this way truly admit of question ; and we can easily under-
stand how some minds feel themselves more directly borne
onward to this conclusion in the ultimate region of inorganic
order, than while merely tarrying amid the crowded and
endless intricacies of organic contrivance.

The true view seems to be, that the study of the latter
phenomena is more useful in educating and strengthening
within us the ideas of Divine wisdom and goodness ; the
contemplation of the former, in carrying us backwards to a
great First Cause. The element of intelligence, already lying
at the root of the theistic conception, is set forth in clear and
engaging brightness by the variedly curious and beautiful
phenomena of organic nature ; while, in the nature of the
case, the evidence for the Divine goodness only emerges as
we travel onwards to the facts of sentient organism.* The
higher complicacy of physiological order stamps on our

* See subsequent chapter on " Sensation."

136 THEISM.

minds more impressively the fact of the Divine wisdom ;
while the subserviency of this order to ends of happiness
in the animal creation, brings before us the beneficence of
the Designer.

Our illustrative evidence, while resting from the outset on
the same logical basis, thus truly gathers force and compre-
hensiveness for our special coiiclusion as it proceeds. Setting
out with the theistic conception in its most naked form,
it clothes itself with the full attributes of that conception,
as it expatiates over a wider and more diversified field of
induction.

OEGANIC PHENOMENA — VEGETABLE. 137

IL— CHAPTEK VI.

SPECIAL OEGANIC PHENOMENA — VEGETABLE.

In entering on the wide and diversified field of organic con-
trivance, our sole difficulty is tliat of selection. So crowded is
it with illustrations fitted to our subject, that volumes might
easily be devoted to special sections of it ; and in fact, there
is no other department of our evidence that has received
such ample and varied, and, we may add, such skilful treat-
ment. The work of Paley alone has made all familiar with
its interesting details ; and, conceived as this work is
throughout in so fine a vein of homely English sense ; rich
with the light of a meaning everywhere clear and impressive,
if not highly consecutive or profound ; written, moreover,
with such inimitable grace and felicity of style, — it seems as if
it were at once presumptuous and useless for us to enter ujDon
ground which he has traversed with such fascinating success.*

* The Natural Theology, and in fact the general works of Paley, have of late
somewhat lost the distinction they once enjoyed. This is undoubtedly owing to
then' marked deficiency in philosophic depth and comprehension, which leaves
the reader so often unsatisfied, while yet pleased with their admirable clear-
ness and sense. With an exquisite tact and homely intellect unrivalled, Paley
was certainly no philosopher ; and it is needless now to urge his claims in this

K

138 THEISM.

We are only led to do so from a conviction of the too obvious
gap and imperfection which would otherwise be left in the
course of our illustrative evidence. The knowledge of what
has been already so fully accomplished in this department,
will at the same time lead us to dwell upon it as briefly as
we can, consistently with the necessities of our plan.

Tlie two great characteristics of organic phenomena, in
their lowest forms, we have, in the last chapter, pointed out
to be assimilation and reproduction. The plant, down to
its least developed specimen, exhibits these properties in
contradistinction to any specimen of inorganic matter. Or-
ganisation analysed to its finest point — the minute cell, which
it requires the highest powers of the microscope to detect —
is marked by a forming power, quite distinct from anything
in the inorganic creation. While the inorganic, at the
highest point of development, is, as it has been said, a mere
carrier of force, the organic is essentially a centre of force.

It is deserving of notice how complete is the structure
which the microscope reveals in the elementary cell. Reach-
ing to the rudimentary source of organisation — the hidden
workshop, may we call it ? — of the beautiful forms of life

resi^cct. What he saw, he saw with a precision, and could express with a force
and lucidity unsurpassed by any writer ; but, for the most part, he not only
did not see far into the deeper bearings of his subject, but there does not seem
to have been any desire in his mind to do so. It will not, however, be
a good sign of British thought if the works of Paley ever come to be gene-
rally depreciated. Types as they are of that healthy sobriety, tolerant temper,
and quiet unobtrusive piety, which have hitherto distinguished the highest
jDroducts of British theology — characteristics which, in the present day, we
may well pray God it may not lose — their study can never fail to be highly
advantageous to the Christian student, and to reward him with an increase of
strength and manliness.

OEGAI^IC PHENOMENA — VEGETABLE. 139

that teem all around, we are here, as everywhere, in the pre-
sence of order. The forming hand appears in the most signal
manner, although we cannot trace its action, save by the
delicate scrutiny of the microscope.

The general process of assimilation or nutrition in plants
is of a highly interesting description. The various organs
concerned in the process — the root, the stem, and the leaves
— are all so many structures of the most exquisite delicacy
and beauty, furnishing, in their study, a continued illustra-
tion of the Divine wisdom. We cannot now, however,
dwell upon the simple construction of these organs. Their
functions, in the discharge of the nutritive process, are for
our object even more interesting ; and to the consideration
of these, therefore, we readily pass.

The root at once gives stability to the plant in the soil,
and, by the fibrils which it sends forth in all directions,
collects materials for its food. For this latter purpose, the
fibril roots, with the main root itself (caudex), are provided
with soft porous terminations, called spongioles, from their
peculiar efficacy in imbibing the surrounding moisture.
When the moisture, holding different matters in solution,
has been absorbed, it ascends through the stem — by modes
which vary, and which are not yet in all respects thoroughly
understood. — to the leaves, where it is partly exhaled, and
partly undergoes an important chemical change, rendering
it fit for becoming assimilated. The leaves are the peculiar
seat of what has been called vegetable digestion, though
the entire process of this, and even the nature of the action

140 THEISM.

of the leaves, are still involved in considerable obscurity.
It is certain, however, that during the day, and pre-emi-
nently during bright sunshine, they are ceaselessly inhaling
from the atmosphere carbonic acid, decomposing it, appro-
priating and assimilating its carbon, and exhaling its oxygen.
It is, indeed, believed that during darkness this process is
inverted; that oxygen is absorbed, and combined with waste
or superfluous carbon, and carbonic acid exhaled; but still
wx know with certainty, from its own continued increment,
that the plant appropriates more carbon than it rejects ;
that it therefore removes from the atmosphere more carbonic
acid than it throws out into it ; and thus that the perma-
nent influence of these changes upon the atmosjihere is in
the highest degree favourable, the assimilating functions
operating much more powerfully to purify than the respira-
tory to vitiate it. Plants are thus, in contradistinction to
animals, the great conservators of atmospheric purity.

The sap, strengthened and enriched in the laboratory of
the leaves, is sent back from them to the various parts
of the plant for assimilation, for which it has now become
exactly fitted. The same degree of uncertainty prevails
regarding the precise character of the sap's descent as exists
regarding its ascent. In dicotyledonous plants its main
current is through the liber, or inner portion of the bark,
but it also descends through the alburnum or most recently
formed wood, through which, in the same plants, flows the
main current of the ascending sap. In nionocotyledo-
nous plants its passage is through the innermost layer of

ORGANIC PHENOMENA — VEGETABLE. 141

the structure, which is also the most recently formed.* The
sap in its descent deposits the materials of fresh growth in
the plant, as well as of the different well-known products, —
gum, sugar, oils, and resin, so useful in domestic economy
and in the arts. At the root, whence the nutritive process
. started, it terminates with imparting hardness and tenacity
to the fibrils, and bringing matter to form new spongioles,
while the old are gradually covered with an impervious
cuticle.

It is impossible to contemplate this process without being
impressed with its marvellous fitness and beauty. What a
busy scene of orderly activity is thus every plant around us,
from the noble forest-tree to the lowly lichen. And when
we contemplate all the successive and intervolved adapta-
tion conducing to the result, and again how the life,
which is the result, alone gives impulse and continuance to
the whole, we cannot, surely, doubt the Wisdom which

* It may be necessary to explain for some readers the general classification
of plants into three great divisions — viz., Dicotyledons, Monocotyledons, and
Acotyledons, the name being derived from the structui-e of the seed in the first
two cases, which, in the i^lants of the first division, is composed of two coty-
ledons, or lobes enclosing the germ, or proper seed ; and in plants of the
second division, is composed of only one such cotyledon. Plants of the third
division, snch as ferns, mosses, and lichens, have no seeds properly so called,
and hence, as their name imparts, no cotyledons. They are propagated by
minute granular bodies called sporules, which are really nothing else than dis-
tinct plants, disjoined from the parents, and increasing by the simple addition
of cellular tissue. The first and second classes are also resi^ectively called
Exogenous and Endogenous, from the jDeculiar formation of the stem in each
case — its increase in the first class proceeding from external additions, in the
second from internal development. New matter in the one case is formed by
successive layers on the outside, in the other by successive layers on the inside,
or towards the centre.

142 THEISM.

directs and controls so finely adjusted a series of pheno-
mena.

The phenomena of vegetable reproduction are even more
strikingly manifestive of creative design. Passing by the
simpler facts displayed by the cryptogamous vegetation, we
have in the reproductive organs of the higher classes of
plants some very curious and complicated adaptations.

These organs are all embraced in what is botanically
called the flower. Its parts consist of four series or
whorls, as they are technically termed — 1, the calyx ; 2, the
corolla ; 3, the stamen ; 4, the pistil. These are all now
regarded as merely transformations of leaves, altered so as to
suit the particular functions which each performs. They
sometimes appear in the form of true leaves, without any
marked modification. The calyx is the outer covering of
the flower — the symmetrical cup in which it commonly
rests. It is usually of the same green colour as the
leaves, but sometimes also, as in the fuchsia and Indian
cress, it is differently coloured. Its several parts are
termed sepals. The corolla is the flower, popularly so
called; its parts, which are sometimes distinct and some-
times united in various ways, are termed petals. " The
petals are composed of a congeries of minute cells, each
containing colouring matter and delicate spirals inter-
spersed, all being covered by a thin epidermal coat or skin.
The coloured cells are distinct from one another, and
thus a dark colour may be at one part and a light col-
our at another. How exquisitely are the colours of

OEGANIC PHENOMENA — VEGETABLE. 143

flowers diversified, and with what a masterly skill are their
varied hues arranged ! Whether blended or separated, as
Thornton remarks, they are evidently under the control
of a taste which never falls short of the perfection of
elegance/' *

The two latter or inner organs, upon which the produc-
tion of seed essentially depends, show a peculiarly minute
and delicate structure. The pistil consists of a hollow tube
called the style, terminating at one end in a kind of
spongiole named the stigma ; at the other, in the seed-
vessel or ovary. The stamens, which commonly, as in the
rose, enclose the pistil, consist of a stalk or filament sup-
porting a rounded oblong body called the anther, the cells
of which are filled with the fine fecundating powder termed
pollen, which is sometimes little more than visible to com-
mon inspection, but presents, under the microscope, midti-
plied distinct forms.

There is a singular and highly interesting numerical
order found to characterise the relation of all these difierent
organs of the plant to one another. " Thus, if a flower
has 5 parts of the calyx, it has usually 5 of the corolla
alternating with them, 5, 10, 20, &c., stamens, and 5, or
some multiple of 5, in the parts of the pistil." And
equally so when the parts of the calyx are 3 — the
numerical bases of 3 and 5 being the most generally pre-
vailing in the vegetable kingdom, although the numbers
2 and 4, with their multiples, are also to be found. "It
* Balfour's Botanical Sketches, p. 148.

144 THEISM.

is worthy of notice/' adds the author from whom we bor-
row these facts, " that flowers exhibiting 5 or 4, or mul-
tiples of these numbers, in their whorls, usually belong
to plants having two seed-lobes or cotyledons, and which,
when they form permanent woody stems, exhibit distinct
zones or circles, and have separable bark ; while flowers
having 3, or a multiple of 3 in their whorls, present
only one seed-lobe, and when they form permanent woody
stems, exhibit no distinct zones nor circles, and have no
separable bark. The numbers 2 and 4, or multiples of
them, are seen also in the parts of fructification of flowerless
plants which have no seed-lobes, such as ferns, mosses, sea-
weeds, &c. The processes which project from the urn-like
cases of mosses are arranged in the series 4, 8, 12, 16, 32,
64, &c. The parts of fructification of scale-mosses (Junger-
mannice) are in fours, as also the germs of some sea-weeds.
Thus the numbers 5 and 4 and their multiples prevail
among dicotyledonous and exogenous plants ; the number 3
and its multiples occur among monocotyledonous or endo-
genous plants ; while 2 and 4, and multiples of them, are
met with among acotyledonous or acrogenous plants/' *

The theistic conclusion undoubtedly receives confirmation
from these and all other evidences of exact numerical rela-
tions in nature. They express very clearly the Divine plan
everywhere stamped on it.

Let us now mark the reproductive process as subserved
by these organs. Fecundation is the immediate result of

• Balfour's Sketches, pp. 137, 138.

OEGANIC PHENOMENA — VEGETABLE. 145

communication between tlie stamens and pistil, — the former,
which i^roduce the pollen, being the active or male, the
latter the receptive or female organs. In the great majority
of cases the stamens and pistil are found on the same plant,
the former overtopping the latter — an arrangement which
gives the most simple mode of fecundation, by enabling the
stigma readily to receive the falling pollen as it bursts from
the anther. In order to secure this purpose more effectually,
the stigma exudes a slightly glutinous fluid, to which the grains
of the pollen adhere. These grains, whose manifold struc-
ture, as seen under the microscope, has been already noticed,
have each two coats, one of which bursts when the grain is
ripe, and the other, in touching the stigma, elongates itself
into the shape of a slender tube, passing downwards through
the style into the ovary, and so conveying to the germ the
vivifying fluid. "The cells of the stigma are beautifully con-
trived to admit the passage of these tubes, as they are long,
and extremely loose in texture, at the same time so moist
and elastic as to be easily compressed when necessary. It
is so contrived that the minute particles contained in the
grains enter slowly to the ovary, as it seems necessary that
the fecundating matter should be admitted by degrees. It
is also necessary that the tube should enter the foramen of
the ovule ; and as the ovule is not always in a proper posi-
tion to receive it, it will be found to erect itself or to turn,
as the case may be, while the granules of the pollen grains
are passing down the tubes." *

* Vegetable Physiology, p. 79. Edinburgh : Chambers.

146 THEISM.

In drooping flowers, such as tlie fuchsia — where it would
be obviously no longer fitting that the stamens should ex-
ceed the pistil in length, as thereby the pollen would be
scattered on the ground instead of reaching the stigma — the
relation of the parts is found inverted in correspondence
with the altered character of the plant. And, in fact,
nothing can be more beautiful and impressive than the great
variety of adaptations by which, in special cases, communica-
tion is secured between the pollen and the pistils. " In
the common nettle the stamens have elastic filaments, which
are at first bent down, so as to be obscured by the calyx ;
but when the pollen is ripe, the filaments jerk out, and thus
scatter the powder on the pistils, which occupy separate
flowers. In the common barberry, the lower part of the
filament is very irritable ; and whenever it is touched, the
stamen moves forward to the pistil. In the style-wort
(Stylidium) the stamens and pistil are united in a common
column which projects from the flower ; this column is very
irritable at the angle where it leaves the flower, and when
touched, it passes with a sudden jerk from one side to the
other, and thus scatters the pollen. In the hazel, where the
pollen is in one set of flowers and the pistil in another, the
leaves might interfere with the application of the pollen,
and therefore they are not produced until it has been scat-
tered."* In Dioecious plants, such as the willow, where the
flowers are not only unisexual, but the stamen-bearing are
on one tree and the pistil-bearing on another, the process
* Balfour's Sketches^ p. 152-154.

OEGANIC PHENOMENA — VEGETABLE. 147

of communication is effected in some cases by the winds,
but in other cases, after a more complicated and ingenious
manner, by insects. The bee, while providing food for its
young, is at the same time aiding in the dispersion of the
pollen. The peculiar shape of some flowers — the Orchids
especially — seems to form an attraction for certain insects
which are helpful in the same office. One of the most re-
markable examples of this insect-agency in the distribution
of the pollen is furnished by the birthwort (Aristolochia).
In this plant the " flower consists of a long tube in a chamber,
at the bottom of which the stamens and pistil are placed,
completely shut out from the agency of the winds. It is
frequented, in its native country, by an insect which enters
the tube easily, and gets into the little chamber. On attempt-
ing to get out, it is prevented by a series of hairs in the tube,
which all point downwards. It therefore moves about in
the little cavity, and thus distributes the pollen on the pistil,
soon after which the flower withers and the insect escapes." *
When impregnation is completed, the other parts of the
flower decay, whilst the " gravid seed-vessel ' increases in
bulk, till it becomes, under very diversified forms, what is
called the fruit. All these forms, many of which are so
familiarly known and useful, would seem to have one prime
object in view, viz. the preservation of the seed. The
production of this seed has been the great end of the process
hitherto described; and, this end accomplished, the flower
dies, whilst the energies of the plant are turned to the nurs-
* Balfour's Sketches, p. 158-159.

148 THEISM.

ing of the little embryo which it has left behind, and which
is destined in its time to advance into new forms of floral
beauty. " Nothing," adds Paley,* " can be more single
than the design, more diversified than the means. Pellicles,
shells, pulps, pods, husks, skin, scales armed with horns, are
all employed in prosecuting the same intention.''

When the seeds reach maturity, their dispersion is pro-
vided for in various interesting ways. In some cases the
fruit falls without opening, and gradually decays, forming a
sort of manure with the soil in which the plant sprouts. In
other cases the seed-vessels open and scatter the seeds. " In
the common broom, the pod, when ripe, opens with consi-
derable force ; so also the fruit of the sandbox-tree, and the
balsam, which is called Touch-me-not, on account of its
seed-vessel bursting when touched. The squirting cucumber,
when handled in its ripe state, gives way at the point where
the fruit joins the stalk, and the seeds are sent out with
amazing force. The common geranium seed-vessels curl up
when ripe, and scatter the seeds. In the case of firs, bigno-
nias, and some other plants, the seeds are furnished with
winged appendages ; while in the cotton-plant and asclepias
they have hairs attached to them, by means of which they
are wafted to a distance." " The plant called Kose of Jericho
becomes dried up like a ball, and is tossed about by the
wind until it comes into contact with water, when its small
pods open, and the seeds are scattered ; and a species of fig-
marigold in Africa opens its seed-vessel when moisture is

* Natural Theology, Knight's edit., vol. iii. p. 58.

ORGANIC PHENOMENA — VEGETABLE. 149

applied/' " In the dandelion, the leaves which surround
the clusters or heads of flowers are turned downwards, the
receptacle becomes convex and dry, the hairs spread out so
as to form a parachute-like appendage to each fruit, and col-
lectively to present the appearance of a ball, and in this way
the fruit is prepared for being dispersed by the winds/' *

The seed being deposited in the soil, the process of ger-
mination takes place under the influence of heat, air, and
moisture. The embryo sends forth, in one direction, a
number of fibrous threads, which fix the plant in the ground.
The radicle, in short, becomes the root. The plumule on the
other side elongates itself, rising into the air in the form of
the stem, frequently accompanied by one or more cotyledons
or seed-leaves, according to the nature of the plant.

And thus the great processes of nutrition and reproduc-
tion again proceed in the same varied and beautiful round,
proclaiming the Wisdom which guides and which guards the

whole.

We might add indefinitely to the force of these illustra-
tions, by a consideration of the same processes as exemplified
in the animal kingdom. In this field we might easily glean
some examples of peculiarly elaborate and striking contri-
vance,t subservient to the production and preservation of
those higher and more complex forms of life which here meet
us. The numerous and intricate organs employed in diges-

* Balfour's Sketches, pp. 44, 172, 173, 174.

t The suckling the kangaroo, admirably described by Dr Whowell {Indica-
tions of the Creator, p. 123-124), is among the most remarkable of such in-
stances for complication, and at the same time propriety, of contrivance.

150 THEISM.

tion, in the circulation of the blood, in respiration, and the
exquisite order and regularity with which they perform their
functions, are especially marked with instructive meaning in
reference to our subject. As, however, according to our
whole plan, we do not and cannot aim at a mere accumu-
lation of instances which do not add some significance to our
evidence, w^e pass onwards to those higher illustrations pre-
sented by the muscular and nervous phenomena, which are
considered to be the distinctive characteristics of the animal
kingdom.

ORGANIC PHENOMENA — ANIMAL. 151

§ IL— CHAPTER YIL

SPECIAL ORGANIC PHENOMENA CONTINUED — ANIMAL.

BiCHAT first clearly propounded the distinction between
merely vegetable and animal life * which is now generally
accepted. Besides the functions of nutrition and reproduc-
tion which the animal shares with the plant, the former is
characterised by two special tissues, the muscular and the
nervous, issuing in distinctive manifestations of vitality,
higher than those to be found in the vegetable kingdom. It
is doubtful, indeed, as formerly said, whether the separa-
tion thus marked out be clear and decided. We have cer-
tainly, among plants, at least the shadow of these higher
vital developments v/hich so prominently mark the animal
creation, as in the phenomena of irritability in the Venus' fly-
trap, the sensitive plant, and some others. In the former
plant the leaves are marked by three projecting hairs, which,
when touched, have the singular property of causing the
leaf to fold upon itself, shutting in the insect which may

* Bichat's own language is organic and relative ; but we prefer, for obvious
reasons, the less technical, more readily intelligible language.

152 THEISM.

have caused the movement. The mode in which the leaves
of the sensitive plant fold themselves together on the slightest
touch is still more familiarly known. Eemarkable as these
movements are, however, the conclusion of botanical autho-
rities, upon the whole, appears to be against the supposition
of their beino; identical in source with similar movements
in animals. " They are not dependent,'' says the Professor
of Botany in Edinburgh, " on nervous and muscular power,
as is the case in animals, but they seem to be caused by the
greater or less distension of cells connected with the base of
the leaves and of the leaf-stalks.'' *

The peculiar property of the muscular tissue is denomi-
nated contractility. It is simply the power possessed by
the muscles of contracting or shortening themselves. This
contractile power is observable in the lowest classes of
animals, although they do not jJi'esent any distinct trace of
a fibrous structure. In the inferior zoophytes — such as the
Infusoria, Polypi, Medusae — the whole body seems to exhibit
an incessant action upon the surrounding fluid, maintained
by means of " very minute and generally microscopic fila-
ments " called cilia, and which apparently serve in the case
of these genera not only the purpose of progressive motion,
but also of respiration, and of procuring a supply of food.f
In the Eadiata generally, however, no distinct muscles can
be said to be traced, and their powers of movement are for
the most part very limited.

As we ascend the scale of animal life we begin to observe
the formation of fibres, at first irregularly dispersed through

* Balfour's Sketches, p. 131. f Dr Roget, Bridg. Treat., vol. i. p. 126.

ORGANIC PHENOMENA — ANIMAL. 153

the soft body, and then, as the organisation becomes more
complex, collected into bundles, composing what are properly-
called muscles.* In many of the Articulata the muscular
system is highly developed. Lyonet is said to have counted
in some species of caterpillar not fewer than four thousand
muscular bands ; and the extraordinary weights which ants
and beetles easily move, prove the muscular energy to be
very powerful in these creatures. It is in the Vertebrata,
however, and especially as displayed in the human body,
that the muscular system has been most carefully studied,
and is most familiarly known. And from this comparatively
limited, but very adequate sphere, our illustrations will for
the most part be drawn.

The bundle-form is one of the most remarkable charac-
teristics of the muscidar tissue. The compact bundle is
found, on examination, to be composed of a series of lesser
and lesser bundles, firmly bound together in sheaths.
" The dilatation of the muscular fibres in thickness, which
accompanies their contraction in length, would, if these
fibres had been loose and unconnected, have occasioned too
great a separation and displacement, and have impeded
their co-operation in one common effect. Nature has
guarded against this evil by collecting a certain num-
ber of the elementary fibrils, and tying them together with
threads of cellular substances, thus forming them into a
larger fibre ; and, again, packing a number of these fibres
into larger bundles, always surrounding each packet with
a web of cellular tissue." "|-

* Dr Roget, Bridgewater Treatise, vol. i. p. 126. f Ibid., p. 130.

L

154 THEISM.

As muscular action is wholly tlie result of tlie contractile
power possessed by the tissue, it is obvious that reciprocal
sets of such muscular bundles as we have described are
necessary to produce the varied and reciprocal motions of
animals. As Paley * states and illustrates the fact : " It is
evident that the reciprocal energetic motion of the limbs,
by which we mean motion with force in opposite directions,
can only be produced by the instrumentality of opposite or
antagonistic muscles — of flexors and extensors answering to
each other. For instance, the muscles placed in the front
part of the upper arm, by their contraction bend the elbow,
and Avith such degree of force as the case requires or the
streno-th admits of. The relaxation of these muscles after
the effort would merely let the fore-arm drop down. For
the back stroke, therefore, and that the arm may not only
bend at the elbow, but also extend and straighten itself with
force, other muscles, placed on the hinder part of the arms,
by their contractile twitch, fetch back the fore-arm into a
straight line with the cubit, with no less force than that
with which it was beat out of it. The same thing obtains
in all the limbs, and in every movable part of the body. A
finger is not bent and straightened without the contraction
of two muscles taking place. It is evident, therefore, that
the animal functions require that particular disposition of
the muscles which we describe by the name of antagonist
muscles. And they are accordingly so disposed. Every
muscle is provided with an adversary. They act, like two

* Natural Theology, vol. i. pp. 104, 105 ; Knight's edit.

ORGANIC PHENOMENA — ANIMAL. 155

sawyers in a pit, by an opposite pull ; and nothing surely
can more strongly indicate design and attention to an end
than their being thus stationed." To which Sir C. Bell in
a note adds : " The muscles are antagonists certainly, but
there is a fine combination and adjustment in their action,
which is not illustrated by the two sawyers dividing a log
of wood. The muscle having finished what we call its action
or contraction, is not in the condition of a loose rope, but, on
the contrary, there is always a perfect balance of action pre-
served between the extent of relaxation of the one class of
muscles and the contraction of the other; and there is a
tone in both by which the limb may be sustained in any
posture that is willed."

The muscles are attached by tendons or sinews to the
parts to be moved ; and there is often singular contrivance
shown in the mode in which these are made to act. The
most obvious and simple mode of producing motion, would
of course be to stretch the tendons in a straight line betwixt
the parts to be moved. But this would not, in many cases,
suit the convenience of the body. The muscles are, in con-
sequence, found in positions whence they can only act on
the movable object in an oblique manner, and with a corre-
sponding loss of force, but, at the same time, with an
increase of velocity, and a saving of muscular contraction
highly advantageous. Muscles acting after this obhque
fashion are often used in pairs, in which case the direction
of motion is the diagonal line between them, — an arrange-
ment which, in certain movements of the body, is pro-

156 THEISM.

ductive of a rapid and easy motion particularly desirable.
The action of the chest in breathing is of this kind *

In certain parts of the body, where mobility is especially
requisite, a condensation of muscular fibres would have been
especially incommodious. By a skilful provision, the muscles
are in such cases placed at a distance, where their presence
is subservient to the beauty of the corporeal outline ; while
they are, at the same time, by a special apparatus of long
tendons, stretching like wires from a mechanical centre,
brought within range of their approjDriate sphere of action.
It is in this way that the muscles which move the hands
and feet are found respectively in the arm and the calf
of the leg, instead of forming, as Paley expresses it, an
" unwieldy tumefaction in the hands and feet themselves.
The observation,'' he adds, " may be repeated of the muscle
which draws the nictitating membrane over the eye. Its
office is in the front of the eye, but its body is lodged in the
back part of the globe, where it lies safe, and where it
encumbers nothing/' -|-

There are many other advantages connected with the use
of tendons which have been carefully pointed out. J By their
intervention the whole concentrated power of the muscular
fibres is conveniently brought to bear upon any particular
point where an accumulation of force is necessary. The
action is upon the very same principle on which a number
of men pull together at a rope, in order to influence by their
combined strength a given position. By means of tendons,

* Dr RoGET, p. 132, f Natural Theology, vol. ii. p. 106.

+ Dr RoGET, p. 134-135, to whose treatise we are here, and throughout
this description, greatly indebted.

OEGANIC PHENOMENA — ANIMAL. 157

also, a change of direction may be imparted to tlie moving
power, without any alteration of its place. Tendons are
thus found, in numerous instances, " to pass round corners
of bones, and along grooves or channels expressly formed
for their transmission, producing the effect of pulleys.'' The
trochlear muscle of the eye acts in this manner. It passes
round a cartilaginous support and turns back, just like a
rope round a pulley. By a similar mode of muscular action
the lower jaw is pulled down, the moving power proceeding
not from below but from above the jaw — rising, in fact, in the
side of the face, and of course descending in the first instance,
but, at a certain point, taking a turn and then ascending —
which is the direction in which it could alone produce the
appropriate effect*

The peculiar configuration of certain muscles serves still
further to show the design with which they are marked. In
many cases " the fibres, instead of running parallel to one
another, are made either to converge or to diverge, in order
to suit particular kinds of movements ; and we frequently
find that different portions of the same muscle have the
power of contracting independently of the rest, so as to be
capable of producing very various effects, according as they
act separately or in combination." f The muscle of the
back, called the trapezius, is an example of this. Some-
times they radiate from a common centre, as in the delicate
muscle of the ear-drum ; and at other times they run in a
circular direction, forming what is called an orbicular or
sphincter muscle. In the membrane of the eye called the

* Paley's Natural Theology, vol. i. p. 116. f Dr Roget, vol. i. p. 135.

158 THEISM.

iris these two last-mentioned muscles are combined with
beautiful effect. On tlie application of too mucli light, the
circular fibres directly surrounding the pupil instantaneously
contract, diminishing its size ; while again, when more light
is needed, the contraction of the radiating fibres, acting on
the circular, serves as instantaneously to enlarge the pupil.
The instinctive character of this balanced action (the will
having but a slight and occasional control over it) espe-
cially evinces foresight ; for thus alone does it respond
with unerring precision to all the varying necessities
and circumstances of the animal. A somewhat corre-
sponding action of circular fibres with longitudinal, distin-
guishes the muscular coats surrounding canals of various
kinds, such as the blood-vessels, and the alimentary tube ;
the former tending, by their contraction, to extend the
canal and propel its contents — the latter, again, by their
contraction, having a tendency to shorten it.*

One of the most general and remarkable characteristics
of muscular action in the limbs remains to be mentioned.
It takes place at what is called a mechanical disadvantage.
The axis of motion is much nearer to the exciting force than
to the resistance to be overcome. There is, of course, a
great sacrifice of power in this way ; but Avhile this is com-
pensated, on the one hand, by the special energy of the mus-
cular exertion, on the other hand, velocity and freedom of
motion (which are the great requisites in the animal system)
are obtained in proportion to the mechanical disadvantage.
" Strength is sacrificed," as Dr Eoget observes,f " without

* Dr ROGET, vol. i. p. 147. t Ibid., vol. i. p. 141.

ORGANIC PHENOMENA — ANIMAL. 159

scruple, to beauty of form or convenience of purpose ; and
that disposition of the force is always adopted from which,
on the whole, the greatest practical benefit results. Every-
where do we find the wisest adaptation of muscular power
to the objects proposed, whether it be exerted in laborious
efforts of the limbs and trunk ; whether employed in balanc-
ing the frame or urging it into quick progression ; or whether
it be applied to direct the delicate evolutions of the fin-
gers, the rapid movements of the organs of speech, or the
more exquisite adjustments of the eye, or of the internal
ear."

It were difiicult, indeed, to conceive a more imj^ressive
display of design than is represented by all the varied and
intricate action of the muscular system in any of the higher
animals, and in the human frame especially. All is hidden
from our view beneath the covering of skin which encases
and protects the delicate machinery. But could we see
within, and trace the unceasing play of muscular adjustment
under any of our most common movements, nothing could
be more wonderful than the spectacle exhibited. The move-
ment of the eye in vision, of the ear in hearing, of the tongue
and larjnix in speaking, all depend upon relations of the
nicest and most complicated description, whose operation,
unceasing as it is, is at the same time unwearying. How
wonderful the muscular endurance of the heart alone, which
contracts " with a force equal to sixty pounds eighty times
every minute, for eighty years together, without being-
tired 1 '' * When the hand performs any common task — exe-

* Animal Physiology, '^. li. Edinbui'gli : Chambers.

160 THEISM.

elites a piece of music, for example, or simply writes — how
numerous the muscles brought into play, and yet how hap-
pily measured, definite, and wholly uninterfering their
mutual action ! " Not a letter,'' as Paley has well described
the latter case, " can be turned without more than one,
or two, or three tendinous contractions — definite, both as to
the choice of the tendon, and as to the space through which
the contraction moves; yet how currently does the work
proceed! and when we look at it, how faithful have the
muscles been to their duty ! how true to the order which
endeavour or habit hath inculcated ! " *

The disposition of so many muscles in the human body
(anatomists have given names to between four and five
hundred), often so closely contiguous to one another, that
they are found " in layers, as it were, over one another, cross-
ing one another, sometimes imbedded in one another, some-
times perforating one another," yet all so perfectly arranged
that they never obstruct or interfere with one another —
this of itself surely furnishes evidence of design which it
is impossible to resist. What, save prescient Wisdom, could
have devised an arrangement at once so exquisitely inter-
volved, and so faultlessly harmonious ?

In advancing to a brief consideration of the nervous sys-
tem, we enter upon a sphere of illustration peculiarly signi-
ficant for our subject. For the nerves are not, like the
muscles, simply examples of organic contrivance ; they are
the seats of sensation, the media of animal conscious-

* Natural Theology, vol. ii. p, 113.

ORGANIC PHENOMENA — ANIMAL. 161

ness, in whose varied plienomena we find the appropriate
evidence, not only of Divine wisdom, but especially of
Divine goodness. In this chapter, however, we glance at
the nervous system simply in its organic arrangement, as
contributing, in the mere complicacy and order of its parts,
to the force of our preceding evidence. The mental meaning,
which everywhere underlies it, will immediately receive full
attention.

The nervous, like the muscular system, is found, in the
lower animal races, in a very undeveloped state. In the
very lowest, indeed, including the Porifera (sponges) ; Poly-
pifera (mushroom corals); Polygastrica (infusory animalcules);
Acalephse (sea-blubbers) ; and Entozoa (intestinal worms), no
trace of it can be detected by the closest scrutiny. These
animals are hence arranged by zoologists into a sub-kingdom
by themselves, under the name of Acrita. It must not,
however, be supposed that the neurine or nervous mat-
ter is really absent in these races. It is no doubt present,
although it cannot be traced ; not gathered into masses,
nor even into threads, but probably diffused in impercep-
tible atoms through the whole of their very simple struc-
ture.*

In the races immediately above the preceding, the nervous
matter is distinctly visible in the shape of threads dispersed
through the body. They are hence arranged in a sub-kingdom,
under the name of Nematoneura, the most interesting and im-
portant section of which are the Echinodermata, or star-fishes.

* Gosse's Text-Booh of Zoology, p. 1.

162 THEISM.

In the Articulata we reach a further and very significant
development of the nervous structure. It is no longer
merely in the form of threads, but presents the first appear-
ance of a spinal chord, with ganglions or nervous centres col-
lected on it ; that is to say, knots or swellings at regular
intervals along it, from which the nervous fibres run. From
the fact that these ganglions are, in the Articulata, regularly
disposed along the main line or chord to which they are
attached, it has been proposed to call this general division of
the animal kingdom Homogangliata, as being a name more
truly distinctive than the older and familiar one of Articu-
lata. The varied and deej)ly interesting class of insects, as
also the Arachnida (spiders, &c.), and Crustacea (crabs, &c.),
are representatives of this great division.

In the Mollusca the nervous system does not advance.
They are distinguished, Professor Owen has remarked, by
the development rather of the vegetal series of organs, or
those which are concerned in nutrition and reproduction.
The nervous matter is in them also collected into ganglions ;
but these are no longer symmetrically disposed along a main
line, but are unequally scattered throughout the body. " The
principal mass of nervous matter takes the form of a thick
ring or collar surrounding the gullet, whence threads are sent
ofi" in an unsymmetrical manner to other parts of the body ;
several ganglions being placed around the collar, and others
dispersed in other parts, so as best to supply the most im-
portant organs.''* From this unequal distribution of the
* Gosse's Text- Booh, p. 193.

ORGANIC PHENOMENA — ANIMAL. 163

nervous centres in the races of this division of the animal
creation, it has been proposed to apply to them the more
definite and characteristic name of Heterogangliata.

It is only in the Vertebrata that we reach the fully deve-
loped form of the nervous system. Here we have a spinal
chord, truly so called, not only with ganglionic knots distri-
buted along it, but expanded at the summit into a collection
of nervous matter, which gradually becomes of main signifi-
cance in the system. To this terminal collection of nervous
matter the general name of brain is given. In all the classes
of the Vertebrata a brain and spinal marrow are present, but
the brain especially is extremely diversified in size, and in
the relation of its parts. It is composed of two hemispheres,
respectively named the cerebrum or proper brain, and the
cerebellum or lesser brain. It is by the full development of
the former that the nervous system in the human species is
distinguished. It extends so far back in man as to cover
the whole of the cerebellum, while, in the lower vertebrate
orders, the latter becomes always more apparent, till in rep-
tiles and in fishes it is wholly exposed.

With this very summary description of the nervous system
in the animal races generally, we will now look, for the
sake of special illustration, a little more closely at its struc-
ture and operations in man, in whom it assumes its chief
interest and importance.

The nervous matter in the human body presents the
appearance of an elaborate and intricate trace-work running
out to all its parts, from the vertebrate column and ence-

164 THEISM.

phalon. Comparatively dense and unformed in tlie immediate
region of tlie central line or axis of the body, it branches off
into more rare and distinct outline towards the surface ex-
tremities. Wlien this matter, as exhibited in the brain, is
examined, it is found to be composed of two different sub-
stances. The main substance, which is placed internally, is
white-looking and of fibrous structure. A coating of grey
matter, vesicular in structure, encloses the other, and gathers
into large ganglionic masses at the base, where it constitutes,
as we shall see, a special centre of nervous force. This two-
fold material is found also in the spinal marrow, but in an
inverted relation, the grey matter here forming the interior,
and the white matter the exterior mass. The grey or vesi-
cular matter is supposed to be the generating source of the
nervous energy, the white or fibrous matter to form the
lines of communication between the different parts of the
system.

In the diversified operation of man's nervous system, we
meet, first of all, with centres of nervous action, strictly
corresponding to those found in the lower orders, viz., simple
ganglions, distributed along the spine, or at least chiefly
there. But we also, as might be expected, meet with higher
and peculiar centres of such action in what are called the
sensory ganglions, collected at the base of the brain, and
especially in the cerebrum itself From these respective
centres emanates the whole varied and wonderful activity of
human life.

To Sir Charles Bell we are indebted for the great dis-
covery which has opened up the whole field of nervous

ORGANIC PHENOMENA — ANIMAL. 165

operation. He found that sensation and motion are depen-
dent upon different sets of nervous filaments. The sensifer-
ous filaments, stretching all along the surface of the body,
are constantly receiving impulses which they transmit along
the line to the different centres of nervous action, whence
again proceed the other or motor set of filaments running
to all the different parts of the body. These filaments
start from distinct roots in the nervous column — the roots
of the former being in the posterior, and those of the
latter in the anterior, portions of that column. They
preserve throughout their distinct character and quality,
although in their ramifications they become inextricably
intermingled. According to their function, the former set
have been called afferent, as convejdng impressions towards
the centre ; the latter efferent, as conveying the respondent
movement from the centre.* We have thus, in the most
simple form of nervous operation, three distinct organs, as it
were — the afferent nerve, the ganglionic centre, and the
efferent nerve. These together form an apparatus which
has often been represented by the analogy of a voltaic
battery. The impression communicated at the sensitive
surface passes along the line of the afferent nerve to the
central station, where it is not expended or thrown away,
but, in virtue of its nature, acts upon the vascular structure
of the ganglions, developing a motive force which issues
along the efferent nerve to the parts originally affected.
An act or operation of sense always tends to complete itself
in this way. The stimulus passing inwards is reflected to

* Also esodic, or ingoing nei-ves ; and exodic, or outgoing nen^es.

166 THEISM.

the sentient surface whence it started, quickening there a
movement of closer contact, or, as it may be, of repulsion
towards the object of sensation. When we touch anything,
we have thus a tendency either to grasp it more firmly, or to
reject it, should there be anything in it disagreeable to the
organs of sensation. Without one or other of these results
the sensation has not completed its natural round. It has
fallen short through its own original weakness, or the weak-
ness of some of the organs ; or, as is very commonly the
case, in the ceaseless and complex play of the system, it has
been interfered with by some opposing influence of greater
power bearing on the same centre of nervous force.

The intimate union which is thus seen to exist between
the nervous and muscular systems is deserving of notice.
The action of the one always tends to pass into that of the
other. The two systems are not only combined, but so
combined, or rather inwrought, that the one everywhere
presupposes and includes the other.

We have been speaking all along of sensation as implied
in the nervous process ; and so it is. But, in the very lowest
forms of this process, that which we peculiarly mean by
sensation does not emerge. There are, in other words,
appropriate ranges of nervous action which transact them-
selves beyond the region of consciousness. Among these
are the common functions of organic life — the action of the
heart, of the lungs, and of the stomach. These, as well as
sometimes also special motions of the limbs, are found, in a
state of health, to proceed wholly irrespective of any con-
scious recognition or sensation properly so called. The

OEGANIC PHENOMENA — ANIMAL. 167

sense-impulses which have set them agoing do not, as it
were, awaken, or realise themselves. And in this we may-
perceive a special mark of Divine wisdom ; for how impor-
tant is it that those functions upon which our daily health
depends, should be thus secured from the distracting influ-
ences that would be otherwise constantly bearing upon
them ! How comparatively imperfect and unhappy would
life be, did the respiratory or digestive processes incessantly
claim our attention ! As it is, these processes, proceeding
in a separate round by themselves, minister in the most
faithful and efficient manner to our daily maintenance and
well-being.

Such simple reflex actions constitute in man, however,
only the lowest circle of nervous operation. And even in
reo'ard to them there is so intimate a relation between the

o

difierent parts of the system, that the processes which may
be, and in ordinary cases are, transacted beyond the region
of consciousness, yet very readily pass into it. For,
according to the full law of nervous action, whose exposi-
tion we owe only to the most recent physiological labours,
every impression is represented as having a tendency to pass
along the nerve of transmission upwards through every
intermediate position to the cerebrum itself.* This ten-
dency, we have seen, is not in many cases carried out.
The nervous impression is intercepted at a lower ganglionic
centre, and reflected there for the performance of various
important functions. Yet, even in those cases in which
there is no conscious recognition, the relation of the nerves

* Morell's FsycKology, p. 97.

1G8 THEISM.

to the liiglier conscious centre is so intimate that some
influence is probably at all times given forth upon it.

The reflections from the sensory ganglions at the base of
the brain may be said to form the second range of nervous
action in man, which, in its special character, is of the
most important kind. These ganglions are the great seat of
sensation. The nerves of the senses terminate in them, and
hence proceed all our well-known modes of sensation, so
various and exquisite. But while this range of nervous
action lies so completely within the sphere of feeling and
consciousness, it is yet irrespective of the will. The
responsive movements flow forth instinctively ; they are
the simple involuntary play of sensations. Such automatic
movements are the winking of the eye, shuddering, balanc-
ing of the body to prevent falling, and many others.

The highest and comjDlete range of nervous action pro-
ceeds from the cerebrum itself While, in truth, the lower
ganglionic centres are so constituted as to be capable of
originating independent ranges of action, they are yet so
intimately related to this highest centre as to be constantly
within its influence. The eff*ects, for example, of intense
thought or of strong emotion upon the processes of organic
life are familiarly known. It is deserving of remark, how-
ever, that this cerebral influence can only be propagated
downwards after a certain manner. The mind can only
influence directly the sensory ganglions, the sensations
which are the appropriate expression of their action again
acting upon the lower ganglionic centres concerned in the
processes in question. The idea of a pleasant taste, for

OEGANIC PHENOMENA — ANIMAL. 169

example, will make the mouth water, and the sensation thus
created will stimulate, through the inferior excito-motor
centre, the action of the stomach. But the mind cannot
operate directly upon the alimentary apparatus.

The cerebrum, it is well known, is the special seat of those
varied ideas and emotions which constitute what is pecu-
liarly considered our mental activity. It is the seat, more-
over, of that moral activity which in man is the flower of
existence. In the will, as the only complete expression of
our cerebral energy, the whole complex human life does not
certainly take its rise, but here alone it finds its sum and
perfection. What grounds there may be for reckoning in the
cerebrum two distinct centres of nervous action — an idea-
motor, so called and described by Dr Laycock,* and one (the
highest of all) specially volitional f — need not occupy us in
so cursory and second-hand a sketch as this.

We have presented more than enough to evince the clear
design stamped on every feature of man's nervous system.
On the one hand, its elaborate structure, so nicely and
curiously wrought, and on the other hand, its diversified yet
never conflicting action, are among the most impressive
manifestations of a wisdom which, shining forth everywdiere
in nature, here shines forth with, perhaps, special signifi-
cance and beauty. It were a vain efl"ort to exalt any one
aspect of creation above another, Divine order being ecpally
conspicuous in all ; yet it would seem that here, in the
exquisite organisation which we have been contemplating,

* In a paper read before the British Association, 1844.
t See Morell's Psychology, p. 100-102.
M

170 THEISM.

Eeason is eminent with a peculiar lustre. Here, standing
at the summit of the physical, on the verge of that self-
conscious reason which sees its own forms reflected every-
where, we seem to see the most perfect correspondence
between matter and spirit — between the order that merely
shows Mind, and the mind that perceives Order. The pious
instinct which, on a comparatively inadequate view, lifted
the soul of the Psalmist to God, here awakens irrepressibly
in every reverent heart, " I will praise Thee ; for I am fear-
fully and wonderfully made."

TYPICAL FORMS — DIVINE WISDOM. 171

§ IL— CHAPTEK VIII.

TYPICAL POEMS — DIVINE WISDOM.

The general conception of order with which we set out,
has in the few last chapters become mixed up with the
more special conception of design. The teleological aspect
of organic phenomena is that which most readily fixes the
attention of the Natural Theologian, as it is that which has
hitherto proved the most successful key of discovery in
prosecuting their study. Under the influence of the illus-
trious Cuvier, this teleological view had assumed such a pro-
minence in physiology as almost to obscure the more general
view of a unity of plan or order. Of late, however, and
especially through the profound and laborious researches of
Professor Owen, this latter view has begun to claim renewed
interest. In his two works — '' On i\\Q ArchetyjDc and
Homologies of the Vertebrate Skeleton,'' and " On the
Nature of Limbs ''—he has especially shown its value and
fruitfulness as a guiding principle of investigation in com-
parative anatomy ; and the same principle has, in truth, been
gaining ground in the whole region of physiology, as pro-

172 THEISM.

bably fiirnisliing, here no less than in other departments,
the deepest and most pervading key of explanation. It is
felt now, at length, after the extravagance of polemic on
either side has passed away, that there is no necessary
contradiction between the more special and the more com-
prehensive and yet grander doctrine.

We have already seen the numerical relation which sub-
sists between the different parts of plants. In the great
division of the vegetable kingdom, 3 is found to be the
pervading or typical number of the monocotyledonous plants,
and 5 the pervading or typical number of the dicotyle-
donous. This numerical unity is found, on closer examina-
tion, to be merely a single indication of the typical unity
which, throughout the whole range of the vegetable king-
dom, underlies its infinite variety. Beneath all this variety,
apparently and in reality so boundless, there emerges to the
critical gaze an identity of form of the most interesting and
wonderful character.

The science which treats of this pervading feature of the
organic kingdom has been termed Morphology,* and has
within the last half-century drawn the special attention of
naturalists. In so far as it relates to botany. Professor
Schleiden has devoted one of the chapters of his very attrac-
tive work. The Plant, a Biograjjhy, to the subject. He
thus describes the importance of form to the plant, and
the frequent subordination of every other thing to it : —

* In so far as we know the term, morpholog}' was first made use of in appli-
cation to anatomy in the year 1819, by Burduch, in his treatise Uber die
Avfgahe der Morpholoijie. Leipzig: 1819.

TYPICAL FORMS — DIVINE WISDOM. 173

"Whether it arises from the essential nature of the cir-
cumstances or not, we cannot say, but, at least so far as
appearance goes, the production of shape is so promi-
nent a point in the natural history of plants, that all the
rest has often been forgotten for its sake; and thus the
study of form, or morphology, becomes in any case the most
important branch of teaching in all botany. But it would
be a great mistake to suppose that morphology is merely a
meagre enunciation and description of forms. It is also a
scientific question ; it has to seek for the knowledge of
laws, and must, at least as a preliminary step, arrange the
multitude of appearances under primary points of view,
place them according to rule and exception, and so gradually
approach nearer to the discovery of the actual laws of
nature/' *

The . fundamental idea of morphology, therefore, is the
recognition of a common type of construction among plants
and animals. In the case of the former, with which we are
immediately concerned, science, penetrating beneath the
mere diversity of organs, and their enumeration and classi-
fication, discerns a persistent unity of plan or law, upon
which the whole plant, in its various and complicated struc-
ture, is moulded. And it is remarkable that this beautiful
conception, to which science owes so much, was, in the first
instance, due to the vivid intuition of a poetic, rather than
the patient induction of a merely scientific mind. It was to
the fine and subtle glance of Goethe, roaming through nature

* Pp. 81, 82.

174 THEISM.

with so rich a perception of its harmonies, that typical forms
of structure, in the vegetable world, first revealed them-
selves. His Versuch die Metamorphose der Pjianzen zu
erkldren, in 1790, contained the first formal exposition of
the doctrine of tjrpical unity, and must, therefore, be con-
sidered to have laid the basis of scientific botany. It was
not, however, till thirty years later, when the speculations of
Goethe were taken up by de Candolle, and embodied in his
work on Organography, that they attracted general attention,
and passed into the scientific mind of Europe. The idea of
the poet only then became the recognised doctrine of science.
Goethe, drawn to nature from the promptings of its mir-
rored harmony within him, carried over, as might be sup-
posed, a somewhat too ideal view of unity to the plant. His
idea of a typical plant, " whereby he signified an ideal plant,
the realisation of which, as it were, nature had proposed to
herself, and which she had only attained in a certain degree in
the individual plants," is considered by Schleiden to be defi-
cient in clearness and grasp of reality. And it would indeed
have been wonderful if the first fresh glance of the poet
had expressed with perfect precision the deep-seated truth
of nature. It cannot even now be said that the funda-
mental forms of vegetable structure have been precisely
determined ; some, with Schleiden himself, finding a radical
twofoldness, and others aiming to establish a unity* as

* See a paper on " Typical Forms " in the North British Review, August
1851, in which an attempt is made "to reduce a plant, by a more enlarged con-
ception of its nature, to a unity." The pai:)er, understood to be from the pen of
Professor M'Cosh of Belfast, gives throughout a very informing and suggestive
\dcw of the whole subject ; and wc have been greatly indebted to it in the com-
position of this chapter.

TYPICAL FOEMS — DIVINE WISDOM. 175

the most general plan of the plant. It is only by very
patient and comprehensive processes of induction that the
most hidden order of organic nature can ever be discov-
ered. As Schleiden says, "glorious systems may, indeed,
be thought out on paper in the study, but these have no
meaning or importance in the actual world. Thus, as we
enter upon these things, we must rather modestly inquire
whether nature is inclined to display her mysteries to us, —
whether she vnll, in this or that individual instance, make
manifest what characters are essential in their shape ; in a
word, what basis she will afford us for the erection of our
system.''

It will suffice for our general purpose to present a very
brief sketch of the now established reduction of the plant to
a twofold type of structure, as exhibited by Schleiden. The
two representative organs, to which all the others can be
reduced, are the stem and the leaf. The root, and the trunk
with its lateral branches, and these again with their lateral
branchlets, are simple modifications of the former. All these
are of " the same structure, and tend to assume the same
form.'' * " If a thousand branches from the same tree are
compared together," says Lindley, " they will be found to
be formed upon the same uniform plan, and to accord in
every essential particular. Each branch is also, under favour-
able circumstances, capable of itself becoming a separate in-
dividual, as is found by cuttings, buddings, grafting, and
other horticultural processes." Each branch or branchlet,
therefore, is simply the plant repeating itself, in diversified

* North British Fitt-ieu; August 1S51, p. 396.

176 THEISM.

outline, as it advances in growth — each containing within
itself the germ of individual existence, and ready to become
an individual plant on the application of the proper means.
The term phyton has accordingly been given with propriety
to each single part.

Upon the stem, and out of it, grows the leaf, which, in its
turn, is the undoubted tyi^e of all the special organs of in-
florescence, the calyx, corolla, stamens, and pistils. The
sepals of the calyx, and the petals of the corolla, or flower
commonly so called, are obviously enough foliar in their
structure. But the stamens and pistils have been proved
to be no less so, little as, on a mere cursory inspection of
them, this might seem to be the case.

The plant, in its most complete development, is therefore
capable of analysis into two distinct parts — a twofold
system of constructive order. The diversity of stem and
flower is seen to flow from a typical unity in each case ; and
some have carried back, as we have said, the whole diversity
to a radical unity in the stem. If we cannot contemplate
the special relations and uses of diff'erent organs of the plant
without recognising in them the clear marks of design, it is
no less impossible, surely, to contemplate this wonderful unity
of organisation — this plan of structure, underlying the whole
vegetable creation — without the conception of Mind forcing
itself irrepressibly upon us.

But this conclusion is still more strongly enforced by
the most general glance at the result of Professor Owen's
researches in comparative anatomy. The labours of this
great investigator have opened up a new field of interest

TYPICAL FORMS — DIVINE WISDOM. 177

and significance in anatomical science. Carrying along
with liim the principles and conclusions of Cuvier, he soon
found that their very force impelled him forward to a more
profound and comprehensive principle of discovery, which,
while it had been perverted by the arbitrariness of previous
theorisers, is yet of incalculable value and importance. The
simple fact of corresponding bones in different species, freely
recognised by former anatomists, became significant to him
of a great doctrine of homology, running through the whole
of the vertebrate skeleton. By the term homology he ex-
presses the unity or identity of character between the bones
so answering to one another in different animals. The
bones themselves he calls "homologues,'' in contradistinction
to " analogues," which he applies to parts performing the
same function ; whereas homologous parts, identical in
character, may exhibit every variety of form and function —
are the same organs, in fact, under whatever change of
circumstances. Thus the fore limbs of a quadruped, the
wings of. a bird, the pectoral fins of a fish, and the arms of
man, are respectively homologous, because they are really
the same organs, only differently modified ; while again the
mngs of Draco volans are merely analogous to the wings
of a bird;* each organ performing the same function, but
being wholly different in structure.

Throughout the vertebrate skeleton — from that of the fish,
the reptile, and bird, to that of the mammal — from the ceta-
ceans up to man — Professor Owen has demonstrated that
there are no fewer than seventy of such homologous bones,

* Quarterly Hevieio, June 1853, p. 72.

178 THEISM.

which may be clearly traced, showing the uniform plan, or
archetypal model, upon which the whole vertebrate races
have been formed. This vertebrate archetype has been
figured by him ; and, in connection with the respective type-
skeletons of the fish, the reptile, the bird, and the beast, is
said to constitute a perfect anatomical study. With the
details of the subject we feel ourselves incompetent to
meddle ; but the great conclusion is one which claims our
earnest attention — the fact, namely, of the demonstrated
unity of constructive plan underlying all the singular diver-
sity of the vertebrate form. What a pregnant fact is this !
and how vast a scheme of order does it open up in the ani-
mal creation I "If there be," says Professor Sedgwick, " an
archetype in the vertebrate division of animated nature, we
may well ask whether there may not be a more general
archetype that runs through the whole kingdom of the liv-
ing world. In a certain sense there is. All animals, if we
except the Eadiata, which come close to a vegetable type,
are bilateral and symmetrical,* have double organs of sense,
and have a nervous and vascular system, with many parts
in very near homology, even when we put side by side, for
comparison, the animal forms taken from the opposite
extreme of nature's scale. And even in the Racliata, where
we, at first sight, seem to lose all traces of the vertebrate
type, on a better examination many of the genera are proved
still to be bilateral and symmetrical.''

There is in this grand conception of typical order a

* This statement regarding equilateral symmetry must be received with
some limitations.

TYPICAL FOEMS— DIVINE WISDOM. 179

significance for our subject in some respects quite peculiar.
Even if it were the case, therefore, that the teleological
principle of Cuvier suffered any abatement of its lustre
(which, according to a just view, it is yet far from doing)
from the promulgation of this more comprehensive prin-
ciple, the theistic argument would still be far from sus-
taining any loss. It gains, on the contrary, more than
by any possibility it could lose. As if the homage which
science had already from all quarters rendered to it were
not enough, this latest advance of physiology has returned
laden with an offering of most precious and conclusive

meaning.

The essential question of Theism, we formerly saw, resolved
itself into one regarding the rightful relation of man's reason
to the world at large. Is this reason entitled to bring the
manifold life of nature within its own forms, to embrace the
cosmical vastness in its own mirror? We found that, in
the nature of the case, it is and must be so entitled, as the
very condition of science or of truth at all. Reason is not
merely a growth of nature, but truly an emanation from the
Divine Source of nature, and therefore vahdly brings all
nature mthin its laws. Now, looking at these latest dis-
coveries of physiological science, are they not found to bear
an emphatic testimony to this fundamental position ? For
what is the typical order recognised as pervading creation
but the signal expression of a reason allied to man's, and yet
above it ? What is the evidence of an ideal archetype for
the world, or any part of it, but the special evidence of a
Mind subsisting apart from the world, and antecedent to

180 THEISM.

it ? For it is clear that sucli an archetype could never have
existed — such a pattern could never have been stamped on
creation — so deeply inlaid that we are only now discovering
it — without a Mind to conceive and plan it. In the language
of Professor Owen — language of the highest interest for our
subject — " The recognition of an ideal exemplar for the ver-
tebrated animals, proves that the knowledge of such a being
as man must have existed before man appeared. For the
Divine Mind which planned the archetype also foreknew all
its modifications. The archetypal idea was manifested in
the flesh, under divers modifications, upon this planet, long
prior to the existence of those animal species that actually
exemplify it. To what natural or secondary causes the
orderly succession and progression of such organic pheno-
mena may have been committed, we are as yet ignorant.
But if, without derogation to the Divine Power, we may
conceive the existence of such ministers, and personify them
by the term Nature, we learn, from the past history of our
globe, that she has advanced with slow and stately steps,
guided by the archetypal light amidst the wreck of Avorlds,
— from the first embodiment of the vertebrate idea, under
its old ichthyic vestment, until it became arranged in the
glorious garb of the human form.''

And here appropriately our evidence for the special fact
of the Divine wisdom may be said to culminate. Speak-
ing to us everywhere in the laws of nature — in the special
ends of organic functions — it seems in these last chapters to
rise before us with a clear and vivid force of the most irre-

TYPICAL FOEMS — DIVINE WISDOM. 181

sistible kind. In all the intricate diversity, and yet vast
archetypal nnity of organic life, we seem to see with a
brightness, undimmed by intervening medium, the impress
of a Wisdom as grand in simplicity as it is boundless in
fertility.*

* The evidence which this archetypal order or unity of plan in creation fur-
nishes of the unity of the Di\dne Being, is, moreover, deserving of notice. Here,
too, the language of Professor Owen is expressive of that sound Christian phi-
losophy, which in him, as in so many of the highest minds of our country, is
found in beautiful unison with the most eminent scientific attainments. ' ' The
evidence," he says, "of unity of plan in the structure of animals, testifies to
the oneness of their Creator, as the modifications of the plan for different modes
of life illustrate the beneficence of the Designer."

182 THEISM.

§ II.—CHAPTEK IX.

MENTAL ORDER.

In advancing to tins farther and higher branch of our ilkis-
trative evidence, we do not consider it necessary to enter into
any formal proof of mind as a substance essentially distinct
from matter. That it is so distinct has been assumed in the
whole course of our preliminary reasoning, and quite warrant-
ably so. Tor, to say the least, mind is as much entitled,
apart from proof, to be held a distinct reality as matter.
Nay, of the two, there cannot be any doubt to the genuine
thinker which is the real, primary, and constitutive element
of knowledge : and for the materialist, therefore, to demand
a proof of the separate existence of mind, and for the philo-
sopher or theologian to grant him the validity of this
demand, is simply among the absurdities which have sprung
out of the degradation both of philosophy and theology.*

* The assumption that mind is nothing else than a material function, and
that the science of mind is only the highest range of the general science of
physiology, is one among the many specimens of the thoroughly unphilosophic
procedure which characterises Positivism. The whole tone and reasoning
of M. Comte on this subject {PliilosopMe Positive, tome ii. p. 706 et seq.) are

MENTAL ORDER 183

The right of question, the burden of proof, lies plainly all the
other way; matter 'per se, nature independently of mind,
being, according to our whole reasoning, as well as according
to all true philosophy, the simply inconceivable and inex-
plicable.

It is only the fact of mind, the reality of a rational
consciousness in man, which at once gives occasion to the
theistic problem, and forms the condition of its solution. It
is only to reason that the question could ever arise, Is there
a God ? It is only reason that could ever originate an answer
to this question. Mind, therefore, in its full and compre-
hensive sense — the sense in which we made such frequent
use of it in our first chapters — is an element of wholly pecu-
liar significance for our argument. It is the condition of it
from the beginning. Within the mental or rational sphere
alone does the argument find a footing ; and within this
sphere alone, as we shall afterwards see, does it find its com-
pletion. It goes forth into the w^orld of phenomena every-
where, seeking illustration and confirmation ; but the rational
human spirit, the vovs, which is one and abiding amid all
variety and fluctuation of phenomena, is alone the home of
its birth, and equally of its full maturity and strength.

in fact ignorantly arrogant to such a degree as to need no refutation. His
followers in this country have expressly repudiated his confusion oi psychology
with pliysiology as merely one of its branches. Vide Mr Mill's Logic, vol. ii.
p. 422-423, and Mr Lewes' Exposition of Positivism, p. 212.

If any one desires to see the degraded and imintelligible substitute which,
under the name of "a New Cerebral Theory," M. Comte would give -us, in
place of our mental philosophy, let him consult the statement of this theory,
in the Politique Positive, or in the concluding section of the first part of Mr
Lewes' volume.

184 THEISM.

This radical and distinctive importance of mind must not
for a moment be overlooked in the course of our evidence.
But mind also presents itself to us in another point of view.
In its complex and various manifestations, it furnishes also an
illustrative contribution to our argument. It is not only,
according to its fundamental theistic meaning, the essential
correlate and condition of order everywhere, but is itself,
viewed objectively, in its manifold expressions, an illustra-
tion of order of the most interesting and impressive kind.
Mental phenomena bring their own appropriate testimony
to the Divine wisdom, while their specialty, beyond all mere
material facts, enables us for the first time to trace in an
inductive manner the Divine goodness.

The field of theistic illustration afforded by mental phe-
nomena has not, indeed, been very much frequented by
natural theologians. Lord Brougham, in his discourse on
Natural Theology, adverted to this neglect, and so far took
up the subject in one of the sections of that work. But at
the same time he has done little really to rescue it from the
neglect of which he complained ; and it may be doubted, from
his partial treatment of it, whether he fully understood its
character and importance. Dr Chalmers, in his Natural
Theology, has dealt more adequately with certain parts of our
mental constitution in their theistic interpretation ; but he has
left other parts of it, equally significant, wholly untouched.

The truth is, that there is peculiar difficulty in dealing
with mental phenomena for our purpose. They are at once
so confluent and subtle in themselves, and so encompassed
with debate and uncertainty, arising out of the ceaseless

MENTAL ORDEK. 185

polemic of philosophy, that the theologian has naturally-
sought for illustrations of his argument in a less difficult and
fluctuating class of phenomena. At the same time, the very-
character of mental phenomena, in their higher complicacy
and refinement, only renders them the more richly fitted to
display the Divine perfections, in so far as we can truly seize
and represent them. The exquisite varieties of sensation,
the marvellous structure of thought, the glorious workings
of imagination, the infinite play of emotion, and the profound
depths of passion, all speak with the most eloquent utterance
of the Divine wisdom and beneficence.

In the remaining chapters of this section, we endeavour
to bring into view some of the theistic meaning, which may
be everywhere traced in mental phenomena. The divi-
sions which have been commonly made of these phenomena
into those of sensation, cognition, and emotion, will succes-
sively engage us. We accept these divisions as serving
sufficiently to characterise the complexity of our mental life,
apart from those higher rational elements which afterwards,
according to our plan, receive attention by themselves ; and
while our treatment, no less than that of the writers of
which we have spoken, must be here very inadequate, it may
yet include a sufficiently comprehensive survey of the whole
field, as it presents itself, in such rich diversities of aspect,
for inspection.

N

186 THEISM.

§ IL— CHAPTER X.

SENSATION — DIVINE GOODNESS.

The phenomena of sensation form in all cases the lowest
range of mental life, while in many of the inferior races this
life reaches no farther. There are some, indeed, to whom it
may seem strange to speak of mind as expressed in mere
sensation. But we have no other name by which to denote
that higher element or presence beyond mere organic life,
which sense, even in its lowest stages, implies. That which
feels is everywhere something more than that which merely
lives. Sense is only such in virtue of a sentient subject,
which we can only conceive intelligibly, even in the brute
creation, as the dim, crude, and frequently unawakened pre-
sence of mind. It is necessary, at the same time, that we
carefully preserve the distinction of mind, as possessed by
man, in its fully-expressed reality of reason. Any doubt on
this point would leave our argument, or indeed any theistic
argument, in a somewhat hopeless state of confusion and
uncertainty.

With this explanation, a mental presence is to be held as

SENSATION — DIVINE GOODNESS. 187

everywhere manifested in sensation. With every sensitive
act there is ever, according to Sir William Hamilton,* a
distinct forthputting of mental activity. A certain attitude
of attention, blind as it may be, is necessary to constitute
such an act ; and hence it happens that, when attention is
otherwise wholly absorbed, the mental life otherwise wholly
engrossed, we can sustain the most severe bodily injuiies
without any feeling of pain.

Sensations admit of an obvious classification in relation to
the different organs on which they depend. In man they
are commonly reckoned in a five-fold series, as the sensations
of taste, smell, touch, hearing, and sight. It is, neverthe-
less, now almost universally admitted that this classification
is not complete. Dr T. Brown contended for a sixth sense,
under the name of the muscular sense, to which he traced
various feelings generally ascribed to touch ; and it cannot
be doubted that there is a separate range of sensations of
which our muscular frame is the appropriate organ. As tliis
frame is tense or relaxed, as it moves rhythmically or con-
vulsively (in shuddering, for example), or again, as it is
vigorous or exhausted, it gives forth various impressions
which enter into the sensory system, and form a large share
of our daily sensational experience. In the very same man-
ner the difi'erent afi'ections flowing from the constant pro-
cesses of vegetative life — those, for example, arising from a
state of healthiness or disease, vigour or debility — and other
affections still less defined, may very well claim to be ranked
as distinct orders of sensations. It cannot be doubted that

* Vide Appendix to Reid's Works, p. 878.

188 THEISM.

the feelings connected with such states of the bodily organi-
sation, however diffused, make a large portion of the com-
mon consciousness, and of the happiness or misery of our
common mental existence. It is not necessary for our pur-
pose, however, to determine such matters of purely psycho-
logical classification.

Of the five more specially recognised senses, taste and
smell are rightly grouped by themselves ; and again, hearing
and sight stand in a similar group. Touch stands by itself,
as in some respects the most important and necessary of all
our senses.

Taste and smell are intimately allied : they both convey
impressions derived from the chemical qualities of bodies,
the one in the fluid (substances tasted must be either natu-
rally fluid, or must be dissolved by the saliva), the other in
the gaseous state. They are chiefly instrumental as subserv-
ing the more physical wants of existence ; and smell, from
its subservience in this point of view, is well known to
reach a much more intense and powerful development in
some of the lower animals than in man.

The senses of sight and hearing are more intellectual in
their character and relations than the former. They carry
the mind more outward, fixing it more upon the object
awakening its regard. The former, as has been often
pointed out, is more immediately related to the cognitive,
the latter to the emotional powers, a relation which is thus
curiously contrasted in a passage quoted by Mr Morell from
Erdmann's Psychologische Briefe. " The one," says Erd-
man, " is the clearest, the other is the deepest of the senses.

SENSATION — DIVINE GOODNESS. 189

The same contrast shows itself in the objects by which these
organs are severally affected. In the former case the object
shows its outward surface, as it exists unmoved in space ;
in the latter case it betrays, by means of the tone it gives
forth, what exists within and under the surface. It is not
the form and colour of an object which tells what it is, but
its sound. For that reason the sight of a thing does not
penetrate so much to the heart, it only tells us what is its
appearance. On the other hand, the tone moves us ; it tells
us how the thing or the person stands to the heart itself.
On that account we can easily explain the phenomena so
often observed, that deafness is hard and distrustful, while
blindness is mild and confiding.'' *

The sense of touch is peculiar in its range and the diver-
sity of its applications. This extent and variety of opera-
tion constitute its importance and rank in comparison with
the other senses ; for, in point of mere intellectual dignity
and refinement, it must certainly be classed below the sense
of vision. It is the same characteristic which has led to that
subdivision of its functions to which Dr T. Brown led the
way, many separating with him the more objective pheno-
mena of the sense, through which we are supposed to come
to a clear knowledge of the primary qualities of matter-
extension, solidity, hardness, &c.— from the more subjec-
tive phenomena, or those of feeling, strictly so called;
and others ranging in a further separate class the sensa-
tions of temperature, usually considered to form merely a
variety of those of touch.

* Psychology, pp. 113, 114.

190 THEISM.

In the operation of these different senses, the unerring
accuracy with which they guide the inferior orders in the
selection of fitting nourishment, and their rich and varying,
yet so nicely discriminating flow in man, we see the bright
manifestations of the same provident wisdom which we have
hitherto been tracing. Marvellously complex and beautiful
as are the higher organs of hearing and sight, they must yet
surely yield in endless intricacy of harmonious adjustment to
the crowding sensations to which they minister. If the
hand of a transcendent Wisdom be visible in the arrange-
ments of the one, must it not be also impressively recog-
nised in the yet subtler arrangements of the other ?

But it is not for the evidence of design, that may beyond
doubt be here equally traced, that these phenomena possess
a special interest for the Theist. Their peculiar significance
consists not in the fact that in them also we see wisdom,
but that in them, for the first time, we perceive goodness.
In this new reality of creation we have a new testimony to
the Creator. With the dawn of sense, we have the kindling
of the light of love around the great First Cause. We behold
no longer a merely exquisite mechanism, nor even the ela-
borately beautiful action of unconscious life, but the yet
higher and richer workings of sentient being. In these
workings there emerges for the first time the fact of enjoy-
ment, and this fact in nature it is which alone enables us
inductively to find goodness in God. Apart from this fact,
Paley has said, with his wonted brief simplicity, " the attri-
bute has no object, the term has no meaning.'' It is only
the presence of a sentient subject in organism which enables

SENSATION — DIVINE GOODNESS. 191

US to pronounce that the tendency of its design is beneficial.
It is only its relation to consciousness which makes any-
thing good or evil.

It becomes, then, for the theistic inference, a most vital
and momentous question — Is enjoyment really the normal
expression of sensation? Is happiness the prevailing re-
sponse of consciousness ? Is it, in short, " a happy world,
after all ? " What is the testimony which sentient life, in
its manifold forms, utters on this great point? The true
bearing of the question is to be carefully observed. It is
not at all a question implying the non-existence of evil ; on
the contrary, it proceeds plainly on the supposition of evil
being an undoubted reality. The truth is, that with the
fact of pleasure, given in sensation, there emerges so inse-
parably the fact of pain — the one fact so directly suggests
the other — that the induction as to the Divine goodness
assumes, from the very first, a directly polemical aspect. It
becomes a question in a diff"erent sense from the truth of the
Divine power or wisdom ; and we are so far from wishing
to hide from view the obvious difiiculty which thus meets
us, that we frankly admit it in our very mode of stating the
matter. While acknowledging the difiiculty, however, we
reserve it, according to the well-devised plan of our subject,
for separate and special treatment. Pain is present along
with pleasure — evil along with good; and it will be our
subsequent aim to consider the solution of which this fact is
capable. In the mean time, we simply inquire. Is not hap-
piness present to such a degree in creation as to lead us to
infer in the Creator a disposition to bestow happiness ? Is

192 THEISM.

not good so apparent in nature as to declare that its Author
is good ? Or — to place the matter before us in the strictly-
special form in which it has occurred in this chapter — is not
the normal action of sense, enjoyment ?

To the question thus put we can only imagine one
answer. When, with a clear mind and heart, we turn to
nature, we see haj)piness expressing itself in endlessly mul-
tiplied forms. The play of conscious life is everywhere
around us, and it is the play of enjoyment. Every one is
familiar with the felicitous passage of Paley, descriptive of
this prevailing happiness of sentient existence ; and what-
ever shadows may lie in the background — obvious objections
to which we have already adverted, — there cannot well be
any dispute as to the truth as well as felicity of the Arch-
deacon's picture on the positive side. It cannot be ration-
ally doubted that pleasure is the appropriate correlative of
sensation everywhere. The natural meaning of feeling, so
to speak, is happiness. Feeling is no doubt also liable to
be pain ; but — and this alone is the point of our present
argument — pain is the exception, pleasure the rule. If a
nerve be lacerated, it will unquestionably give forth a
sensation of pain ; but the expression of the nervous sys-
tem is nevertheless, in all animals, according to its origi-
nally constituted working — or in other words, when not
interfered with — pleasure. And this is what we intend by
speaking of the normal action of sensation as pleasurable.
The constitution of animal life is such that it yields, in har-
monious operation, enjoyment. The design, therefore, of
that constitution is clearly benevolent, even if it were, in

SENSATION — DIVINE GOODNESS. 193

the actual circumstances of the case, more liable to interfer-
ence than it is. In truth, however, it is not only designed
to evolve happiness, but so secured in its working that the
design is for the most part effectually accomplished.

Happiness ascends million-voiced to the great Source of
Being day by day. It is a living, if often inarticulate speech,
diffused through creation, and warming it everywhere with
the breath of thanksgiving. It is a song of natural piety
which is new every morning, and fails not every evening,
although many jars mingle in the wide-toned henedicite.
These mar the harmony of the song, but it still goes
upwards, a pervading strain of happiness, in testimony of the
Love from which it comes, and in which alone it lives.

194 THEISM.

IL— CHAPTER XL

INSTINCT.

Before passing onward in our inductive psychological sur-
vey, we are met by a question of special theistic interest, in
regard to the display of mind in certain of the lower animals.
We do not here, indeed, propose to meddle with the general
question of animal mind, which presents so many apparently
insuperable difficulties ; but that peculiar manifestation of
intelligence, in many of the lower creation, which has re-
ceived the name of " Instinct,'' and which has been supposed
to bear with a very conclusive effect upon our subject,
demands from us a passing notice.

The cell-making of the bee, and the nest-building of the
bird, are familiar examples of instinct. The mental power,
displayed by the animal in these operations, appears to be
wholly singular. In ordinary cases, mind works only accord-
ing to instruction and experience : it is dependent on edu-
cation, and increases with exercise. In these and other
similar cases it operates, in the language of Paley, " prior
to experience, and independent of instruction." Nor is

INSTINCT. 195

this all. The definition of Paley — broadly as it demar-
cates the mode of instinct from that of mind in the ordinary
sense — is considered by Lord Brougham to fail in expressing
the most essential element of distinction between the two ;
viz., the conscious intention or foresight which is ever pre-
sent in the one case in any effort of higher constructiveness,
but which, in many cases of instinct, it seems wholly
impossible to conceive present. The bee or the bird, for
example, not only works towards the most beautiful results
— builds the one its cell, and the other its nest — with a skill
and precision which human effort only approaches at a
distance, — neither of them having ever seen a cell or a nest
before, or having ever previously tried to make one ; but, in
many cases, there seems also, as the most wonderful fact of
all, the certain absence of any foresight of the end towards
which all this animal ingenuity is expended. In the case
of the bee, as his lordship has well put it in his dis-
cussion with Lord Althorpe, in the first of his dialogues,
" I see her doing certain things which are manifestly to pro-
duce an effect she can know nothing about — for example,
making a cell, and furnishing it with carpets and with liquid,
fit to hold and to cherish safely a tender grub, and knowing
nothing, of course, about grubs, or that any grub is ever to
come, or that any such use, perhaps any use at all, is ever to
be made of the work she is about. Indeed, I see another
insect — the solitary wasp — bring a given number of small
grubs, and deposit them in a hole which she has made over
her egg, just grubs enough to maintain the worm that egg
will produce when hatched — and yet this wasp never saw

196 THEISM.

an egg produce a worm — nor ever saw a worm — nay, is to
be dead long before the worm can be in existence; and,
moreover, she never has in any way tasted or used these
grubs, or used the hole she made, except for the prospective
benefit of the unkno^vn worm she is never to see. In all
these cases, then, the animal works positively without know-
ledge, and in the dark. She also works without designing
anything, and yet she works to a certain defined and impor-
tant purpose.'' *

It is, of course, impossible to pronounce so decidedly as to
the absence of design, on the part of the animal, towards the
end for which she is working, as it is to pronounce regarding
her want of instruction. We have no means of absolutely
determining the relation of the animal's consciousness to her
work ; whereas it is easy to ascertain, and is beyond all
dispute, that she has never learned her art from others. She
is as perfect at it at the first as at the last ; and every bee,
and every succeeding race of bees, works exactly in the same
manner, and with the same exact degree of perfection — all
which plainly declares the endowment to be of a si^ecific
character, distinct from ordinary intelligence. There is, how-
ever, as in the cases described, and certain others, the
strongest evidence for concluding in the animal ignorance
of intention towards the special end for which she works.
If we did the same things, we know we should be planning
in ignorance. And even those who have endeavoured most
earnestly to reduce the operations of instinct to the category
of ordinary intelligence, have been found to acknowledge

* Dialogues on Instinct, pp. 25, 26.

INSTINCT. 197

such an absence of foresight in the animal in cases where
the most refined and difiicult end is yet subserved *

It has been a favourite attempt, it is true, of certain
naturalists to explain such examples of animal skill by the
aid of simple sensations. The bee and the bird are supposed
to proceed in their work under the guidance of certain cor-
poreal feelings, which only reach their gratification in its
accomplishment. But, granting this, which is very probable,
it seems to go but a little way towards an explanation ; for,
while such sensations may account for the animal's impulse
toward her work, and even her continuance in it, they can
never surely account for her ability to perform it. They may
prompt it, but it is inconceivable that they can execute it ;
and we find, accordingly, that the very writers who would
reduce the whole process to a series of sensations, many of
them purely hypothetical, are yet, in the very nature of the
case, obliged to call in a "constructive head'' and a "stroke of
genius " to complete the work. No one, indeed, could desire
a better exposure of the futility of all such attempts to account
for instinct on the mere ground of sensation, than that which is
furnished by the very character of these attempts, as described
by the writers in question. The impression which they must
make on every mind, which is less eager to support an hypo-
thesis than to ascertain the truth, is in the highest degree un-
satisfactory. The mystery, as explained, is only tenfold more
mysterious, while the explanation itself is incumbered by
an amount of hypothesis which renders it wholly valueless.*

* Chambers's Papers for the People, No. 182, p. 29.

t Vide Papers for the People, No 182, pp. 30, 31,— which we mention because

198 THEISM.

The sensational view of instinct has been fully discussed
by Lord Brougham in his well-known Dialogues — ^his inter-
locutor urging, with great acuteness, all its supposed force
of explanation. It is impossible not to feel that it receives
a very thorough and candid examination, and that it is
rightly pronounced completely wanting at once in its arbi-
trariness, and in its failure, even if its arbitrariness were over-
looked, to compass the most essential conditions of the pro-
blem. His lordship has shown this with great minuteness,
and with the most undeniable success in the special case of
the bee ; and we cannot do better than refer any of our
readers, who would more fully investigate the subject, to his
interesting volume. It seems to us, upon the whole, that
we are clearly warranted in asserting the operations of
instinct to be often unconscious in reference to the end
which they specially accomplish. Nay, it seems to be, as
Lord Brougham contends, that it is this element of blind
instrumentality in the production of a highly- wrought intel-
lectual result that we specifically mean by instinct. It is
the disproportion and inadequacy of the apparent means to
the end which constitutes the marvel, and has so fixed
curiosity upon it.

Let us see, then, what is the bearing of this upon our
subject. In such instinctive operations, we have the pre-
sence of a very high degree of intelligence. The important
question arises, whose intelligence? The whole result of

of the eminent ability that marks it, entii-ely inconclusive as we conceive its
reasoning to be.

INSTINCT. • 199

our examination of the facts has been to show that it is
not, in any common sense, the intelligence of the animal
that is here at work. There are some of the facts, as the
rare mathematical qualities of the bees' work, which imply
a knowledge that man has only attained by the most diffi-
cult and gradual mental processes,* and these alone would
seem, from the first, to preclude the idea of the directing
intelligence being that of the animal. But the strongest
evidence against such a supposition consists certainly in the
peculiar character of the mental power which here appears ;
displaying itself at once in such full and exquisite perfec-
tion, and with such unerring success accompKshing ends, of
which it is incredible to conceive any prevision in the animal.
If we cannot, therefore, accredit the animal itself with either
the rare skill or the conscious purpose manifested in the
operations before us, are we not carried directly upward
to the Divine intelligence working in and through the

* The hexagonal character of the bees' cell, and the jDurpose thereby so
admirably served of the utmost possible saving of space, are so well known that
it is mmecessary to do more than allude to them. Tliis peculiar property of
the hexagon was only ascertained by man in the progress of mathematical dis-
covery. It is particularly deserving of notice, that certain doubts which had
been cast upon the mathematical perfection of the bees' work have been com-
pletely dissipated by Lord Brougham, and much new and interesting light thus
reflected on its highly intellectual character. From the analysis of a young
mathematician of the name of Koenig, a pupil of Bernoulli, a discrepancy of
two minutes was supposed to be found between the measui-ement of Maraldi of
the actual angles of the cell, and that of the angles that made the greatest
saving of wax. His lordsliip, however, by solving the problem in another way,
found that the bee was right, and the analyst wrong ; and other mathematicians
corroborate him in tliis result. In another respect also, as to the saving of
the wax in relation to the dimensions of the cell, which had been disputed by
a Berhn academician, he vindicates the bee triumphantly against her critic.

200 THEISM.

animal? The argument may perhaps be stated more expli-
citly thus : We have here a mental process of a very high
order ; we must find a mental agent. Such an agent we
do not find in the animal; it appears, on the contrary,
from all evidence, to be a mere blind instrument. "VVe are
forced, therefore, to admit a higher agent. This agent can
only be the Supreme Intelligence everywhere present in
creation.

The conclusion which is here expressed is well known
to be that in which many of the highest and most com-
petent minds have rested. It seems to have been that of
Newton, if his words, as quoted by Lord Brougham, are not
yet entirely explicit.* Pope, in his well-known lines, f
and Addison, J although with less clearness, have expressed
the same truth. His lordship, in his second Dialogue,
argues it at great length, and with great force, so as to
leave a strong impression in its favour on the mind of every
candid reader, if he may yet feel some parts of the argument
not very lucid or satisfactory.

The conclusion is an important one for our subject. Even
if we do not assign it any exclusive weight, — as, according to
our whole view, it is not so much exclusive in its character
as it has been commonly supposed to be, — it yet possesses an

* Dialogues, pp. 61-62.

+ " See then the acting and comparing powers,
One in then- nature, — which are two in ours ;
And reason raise o'er instinct as you can,
In this 'tis God that acts, in that 'tis man." — Essay.

% Spectator, No, 120.

INSTINCT. 201

interesting force which claims recognition in our inductive
ascent. All nature and all life reveal a present Deity. Their
mystery is only intelligible in such a presence. But here,
in this special mystery, we appear to see the special pre-
sence of Divine agency— the immediate operation of the
Divine Mind.

202 THEISM.

§ IL— CHAPTER XII.

COGNITIVE STEUCTUEE IN MAN.

In entering upon the subject of this chapter, it is perhaps
especially necessary for us to disclaim any pretension of
treating the subject by itself Here, as throughout in these
chapters, our object is only to exhibit the bearing of the
facts with which we deal upon the illustration of the Divine
perfections. To a scientific investigation of the facts by
themselves it would be wholly absurd in us to pretend. We
take them, for the most part, simply as they are presented
to us by the labours of others, who have cultivated the
respective sciences to which they relate. It is enough for
us that they are recognised as facts, although in some cases
they may admit of a higher scientific explanation than that
which we give of them. Our only concern is to set forth
their theistic meaning, neither mistaking, nor, if possible,
exaggerating aught.

In rec^ard to the facts treated of in this and the succeed-
ing chapter, we can scarcely hope to be even so far successful.
The pregnant interest of the facts, in our point of view, irre-

COGNITIVE STRUCTURE IN MAN. 203

sistibly prompted a survey of them ; yet their subtlety, and
the dire polemic which everywhere encompasses them, render
such a mere summary survey as was at all compatible with
our purpose peculiarly difficult. This, however, is to be
kept in mind, that even where our statement and explana-
tion of the fact may not be accepted, the theistic conclusion
w^hich we draw will, for the most part, remain untouched.

There is no fact more difficult than that which meets us
on the threshold of the sphere of cognition, and consti-
tutes its condition. Perception is, in truth, the eternal
problem of ]3hilosophy, from the special solution of which
systems take their divergent course after an obvious and
consistent manner, passing on the one extreme to materi-
alism, on the other to idealism.

Sensation in its lowest forms we formerly foimd to give,
as its essential condition, a sentient self or subjective. Per-
ception, in every case, gives not only a self, but also in cor-
relation a not-self, an objective. The former draws and
contains the field of apprehension within, the latter shuts it
out from the sphere of self ; no contrast or distinction being
given in the former, distinction and contrast (apprehension of
relation) being the characteristic of the latter.* Only in this
apprehension, " not merely of a fact, but of relations," can
cognition be properly said to begin. It is no longer simply
consciousness, but consciousness expressing itself in an atti-
tude of distinction from objective phenomena, the ego
realising itself against the non-ego, and thereby becoming
a centre of knowledge.

* Sir W. Hamilton's Appendix to Reid's Works, p. 880.

204 THEISM.

But what more specially makes the contents of this
fact of perception, or initial moment of cognition ? This is
the metaphysical life - question, ceaseless in its stir. The
old controversies die away, but from their ashes there
spring up only higher and intenser forms of the pro-
blem.* Meanwhile, in its secret depths the fact ever-
more is born, and goes forth an intelligible presence into
the world of reality, however we may explain or give an
account of it.

On any admissible explanation, we have in perce2:»tion,
according to what we have already stated, self and not-self,
the ego and non-ego, in clear distinction, and yet in indis-
soluble relation. The correlation is in the perceptive act
inseparable, while its factors are distinguishable. The one
stands face to face with the other, and equally with the
other attests itself The reality in cognition is, therefore,
ever twofold — subject and object ; and in this twofold
reality we have for the first time the full manifestation of
mind — self-consciousness not merely gazing outward upon
the objective world (as in the brute), but realising itself as
distinct from and above the world.

And viewed in reference to our subject, what a marvellous

* This question has again arisen in the sphere of our British i^hilosophy, under
the handhng of one of the most finely speculative minds that ever entered this
field of high debate. In Professor Ferrier's Institutes of Metcq^hi/sic the latest
doctrine of iDsychology, which had gained such general acceptance, has been set
aside as not only incomplete, but Aacious as a basis of speculation. With Mr
Ferrier's special doctrine it vpould be out of place here to meddle. We have
no doubt, however, that the subtlety and depth of metaphysical genius which
his work betrays, its rare display of rigorous and consistent reasoning, and
the inimitable precision and beauty of its style on almost every page, must
secure for it a distinguished i^lace in the history of 2>hilosophical discussion.

COGNITIVE STRUCTURE IN MAN. 205

reality is this ! With what fresh emphasis does it enun-
ciate the inexhaustible energy of the great creative Source !
What a new and beautiful utterance of Divine wisdom is

it ! its very " image" deposited within the conditions of

time and space ! What a field of display for the Divine
goodness does it open up 1 We cannot conceive it doubted
that the fact of perception is thus validly pregnant with
theistic significance. If, in the various organs of sense,
the exquisite complicacy and delicacy of the nervous system,
we recognise the clear nia,nifestation of creative design,
no less surely must we recognise it in the wonderful men-
tal capacity to which these minister. For it is only in
the exercise of the mind in perception that all the sensi-
tive apparatus finds its highest purpose and fulfilment. All
the marvel of its intricate and beautiful mechanism is only,
in the last respect, for mind's service. In perception the mind
appropriates and adjusts every lower organ and function for
its own nobler spiritual uses. Surely, therefore, we must
here recognise a farther token of creative presence and skill.
The subjective and objective being brought face to face in
perception, a continued mental activity is the result. The
mind is continually taking in impressions through^ the
avenue of the senses. It is obvious, however, that without
some further attribute, this mental activity would have
little availed. Incessantly as it was quickened it would
have expired— the old impressions yielding to new ones
ever presenting themselves. Knowledge, in any true sense,
would thus have been impossible. Whatever might have
been the liveliness or the range of perception, the mind

206 THEISM.

could never liave been truly cognitive without a power of
acquisition.

In the human mind a preservative power seems to emerge
consentaneously with the presentative in perception. The
mind not only perceives, but retains. This is one of the
elements of the complex faculty which philosophers gene-
rally have denominated memory, the other element being
specifically known as recollection.* There seems, how-
ever, good reason for confining the appellation of memory
to the simple power of retention, which undoubtedly must
be considered an original aptitude of the mind, irresolvable
into any other. The power of recalling the preserved
impressions seems, on the other hand, rightly held to be
only a modified exercise of the suggestive or reproductive
faculty, which next falls under our notice. This is well
known as the view of Dr Thomas Brown, in the establish-
ment of which he considered he had destroyed all the claims
of memory to be regarded as an original faculty of mind.
But that his subtlety was so far at fault, is evident
from the simple fact that, apart from the mind's capacity of
retention, of which he takes no account, the suggestive or
associative faculty would have no material whereon to
operate.

The best claim of this power of retention to be reckoned
an original element of mind is seen in its primary and fun-

* " This faculty," says Dugald Stewart, who presents a very clear and
thorough analysis of it according to its twofold conception, ''implies two
things — a capacity of retaining knowledge, and a power of recalling it to oui*
thoughts when we have occasion to apply it to use. The word memory is
sometimes employed to express the capacity, and sometimes the power." —
Philoso2)hy of the Human Mind, vol. i. p. 404.

COGNITIVE STRUCTUEE IN MAN. 207

damental importance. Apart from it; mind might have been
a continued, but it would necessarily have been an aimless
and futile activity. Consciousness would have been inces-
santly born only to expire — a mere series of intense bewil-
derment. But a simple power of retention was not all that
was necessary. It required to be, for the purposes of know-
ledge, the very kind of retention which we actually possess ;
the power, for example, not only of preserving impressions,
but of preserving them beyond the immediate sphere of
consciousness — storing them away, as it were, within a
secret repository, whence they can with more or less facility
be drawn by the operation of the suggestive faculty. This
is a very important feature of memory which has been too
little noticed. It is obviously the condition at once of order
and repose among our ideas. Otherwise, with even an incon-
ceivably higher range of attention than we now possess, we
must have been utterly oppressed by the commingling and
hurrying crowd of our perceptions. They would have been
ever in presence, so many petitioners, incessantly and with
equal eagerness soliciting our regard, and overwhelming us
with their anxious suit. Consciousness must have sunk
under its intolerable burden. It would have been no longer,
indeed, a brief ever-vanishing impulse, but a too vivid agony.
The mental energy must have perished under the thronging
rush of its recipients, like the maid of Eoman story under
the shields of the invaders admitted into her fortress.*
What a truly admirable provision, therefore, is this power

* This comparison, which seemed to us as sufficiently fitting, is not our own,
but to whom it belongs we cannot exactly say. It is willingly conceded to any
one who puts in a valid claim for it.

208 THEISM.

of retention I In describing it, we have necessarily set forth
at the same time its useful and beneficent character.

We cannot pass away from it without noticing shortly its
dependence upon attention, and the interesting use and
value of this mental capacity — which is not yet to be reck-
oned, as it has sometimes been, a separate faculty, so much
as the mere attitude or energy of the soul in every other
faculty. Even in sensation, which most of all might be
supposed independent of attention, we found that a distinct
act of it was put forth. This mental attitude is, however,
especially related to the faculty of retention, conditioning it
to such a degree as to be apt even to be confounded with it.
This dependence of memory upon attention has been noticed
by all our philosophical writers.* Our degree of retention
seems, in fact, to be exactly proportioned to our degree of
attention. The more intense the attitude of the mind
towards any object in the first place, the more fixed the
impression retained of it. And thus it is we readily account
for the strong and ineradicable impressions made by those
objects which have interested the passions and drawn forth
the whole soul.

The importance and value of this mental capacity are
abundantly obvious. It may be said to underlie our whole
mental being, as the condition of its culture and progress,
imparting to it that ever-quickening spur which carries it
onwards to new triumphs, and, to a large extent, those vary-
ing measures of development which it manifests in diff'erent

* Stewart's Philosophy of the Human Mind, vol. i. p. 106 et seq. ; Locke
On the Human Under standing, vol. i. chap. x.

COGNITIVE STEUCTUEE IN MAN. 209

individuals. All science is its product ; and life owes to it
all its interest and joy. It is, alone, its incessant operation
from infancy — filling the storehouse of memory with the
familiar images of parents and brothers and sisters — which
binds together family ties, and strengthens all family
love.*

The mind having apprehended in perception and laid up
in memory the objects of knowledge, it was obviously neces-
sary that it should possess a power of recalling or repro-
ducing these objects, in order that its knowledge should be
serviceable to it. Stored away irrevocably beyond the sphere
of consciousness, they had as well never have been laid up.
We have seen how requisite a provision it is that they
should lie beyond this sphere, in order to leave the mind at
liberty to occupy itself with other objects continuing to
solicit it ; but it is clear that if thus for ever laid away,
our stores of perception could never have become to us
stores of experience, and mere accumulation never have
quickened into living knowledge. We have, therefore, the
power of recalling our past impressions. This we are
enabled to do in virtue of that great principle of our mental
constitution familiarly known as the association of ideas,
but more correctly expressed as our suggestive or reproduc-
tive faculty. There is none of our mental flxculties which
has in later times engaged more study than this — none

* Although we had the capacity of retaining knowledge, if this capacity were
not, as it is, in proportion to attention, one impression would have been as
good and effectual as a thousand, and all family union and recognition would
thus have been impossible. Any face would have been just as distinguishable,
or rather as indistinguishable, to a child, as the faces of its parents.

210 THEISM.

which has at all times excited more marvel, and prompted
more curious inquiry.

The process of reproduction takes place according to
laws which have been variously enumerated and described,
and the honour of first generalising which has been
sometimes attributed to one or other of our modern philo-
sophers— ^to Hobbes, Locke, and Hume. Sir W. Hamilton,*
however, has recently claimed this honour for Aristotle,
whose generalisation is not only first in time, but also, in
his view, the most correct and comprehensive. These laws
are generally reckoned at least four in number, — viz.,
the law of similarity, the law of contrast or correlation,
the law of co-adjacency (contiguity in time and place),
and what Sir William Hamilton has called under protest,
the law of preference, meant to include Brown's second-
ary laws of suggestion. Under the operation of one or
other of these laws our mental activity proceeds, and all
our mental experience is accumulated. Through them order
is introduced into what would otherwise be the mere chaos
of mental succession, and the way, as it were, is cleared for
the emergence of those higher activities which carry forward
our intellectual development. Each mind receives its pecu-
liar tone, and enters upon its peculiar education, under their
influence.

Putting out of view the fourth of these laws, which is ob-
viously distinct, and not indeed properly expressive of a prin-
ciple of mental succession, but only of a determining acci-

* Vide Appendix to Eeid's Works, Note D.

COGNITIVE STRUCTURE IN MAN. 211

dent of it * it seems possible to reduce the other three to one
fundamental law or principle, which may be defined as that
whereby the mind, in all its efforts, completes a circle of
thought — in other words, brings a whole into all its repre-
sentations. The special laws mentioned seem all capable of
being regarded as merely particular modes of the operation
of this one great law of integration. If we suppose, as an
example of the first, the case of one face, from some point
of likeness in it, suggesting another, let us see what is
the mental process which takes place. The mind, on
apprehending the particular point of resemblance in the
face before it, immediately begins to complete the image
thereby recalled. It feels that it has got a part of a whole
formerly familiar to it, and its immediate aim is to bring
into view that whole. In ordinary instances the image
completes itself instantaneously, and we are not therefore
conscious of any such aim ; but, in some instances, it is only
after frequent efforts that it does so (as when we see a face
resembling some one that we cannot yet recall), and then
we become distinctly conscious of the reproductive operation.
The eye, or mouth, or whatever part of the strange face is
recognised as familiar, is fixed upon by the mind, and
becomes the centre of a representative picture which the
mind has no satisfaction till it has completed. In the case
of the law of contrast, as when night suggests day, good

* It expresses the relation not between mental phenomena in themselves,
but betv/een the individual mind and any series of such phenomena. It is a
determining accident of association, therefore, rather than an inherent prin-
ciple or law of it.

212 THEISM.

evil, a dwarf a giant, the mental process is still more obvi-
ously of this integrating character * For, in fact, the one
mental conception here directly involves the other, and is
only fully intelligible in relation to it. Each idea is to us
only what it is, on account of its opposite. In passing from
the one to the other, therefore, the mind is simply completing
the complex image, one side of which is always the neces-
sary correlate of the other. The same seems to hold equally
true of the law of co-adjacency, as when a certain house
recalls the friends we met — the conversation we had in it ;
or when one event recalls another which happened at the
same time. In both cases the mental process obviously con-
sists in the completion from a fragmentary of a total repre-
sentation, previously laid up in the storehouse of memory.

When the train of association is once started (the inte-
grating process once begun), it proceeds throughout in the
same way. Every successive representation called up, still
surrounds itself with another as part of a further whole.
It is often the very slightest bond — so slight as to escape, at
the moment, detection — that unites the successive evolutions
of the mental panorama. In one mind, moreover, associa-
tion will take place by deeper and more remote, in another,
by more common and palpable, analogies. Mental refine-
ment is really nothing else than the facile play of associa-
tion round the more subtle and recondite characteristics of
things — their more hidden and beautiful relations. It is

* Sir W. Hamilton calls this law siiccially the law of relativity or integration.
— Vide Appendix to Reid's Works, Note D, p. 911.

COGNITIVE STEUCTUEE IN MAN. 213

simply the exquisite edge imparted by discipline to the
reproductive faculty.

In speaking thus of the process of reproduction as
throughout of an integrating character, it may be necessary
to guard against our being supposed to say that the mind
necessarily impresses a whole upon all the successive train of
its ideas. This, on the contrary, we know it frequently does
not do, the last link in the train having often no relation to
the first as parts of a common whole. Mental succession is
not unfrequently, as in reverie, a mere straggling array of
scattered images. The integration does not proceed, as it is
not necessary that it should, all along its course, but only
from step to step. The general train may thus present a
very incongruous mixture of ideas, while it has yet, at every
step, strictly obeyed the great law of mental development.
We may further observe that it is not necessary, as we
might be apt to think from a first confused conception of
the law, that the facts of a train of association should
have previously coexisted in the mind. In some cases
they have coexisted, and to this fact of their coexistence
is owing their tendency to reproduce one another ; but
more frequently they have had no such previous alliance in
the mind. An object never before perceived may suggest
an old familiar object ; while, again, an object frequently
perceived, may suggest, in different moments, very different
and even quite new trains of thought. Were it not
for this characteristic of the principle of association,
the field of our knowledge woidd have been compara-

214 THEISM.

tively narrow, confined as it must have been to the relations
which, from actual observation, we had stored up in our
minds. We would never have been able to get out of the
past wheel or circle of our thoughts. As it is, the suggestive
capacity, continually started by everything around us, is in
all active and cultivated minds ever entering on fresh fields
of intellectual interest, and acquiring fresh stores of know-
ledge.

Altogether, there is, perhaps, no part of our intellectual
condition of which the beneficial use and beauty are more
conspicuous. Apart from it, life could have possessed no
individual interest ; and the continual flow of consciousness
could never have become concentrated and quickened into
special cultivation and happiness. In the language of Dr
Thomas Brown, " It is the suggesting principle, the reviver
of thoughts and feelings which have passed away, that gives
value to all our other powers and susceptibilities, intellectual
and moral, — not, indeed, by producing them, for, though
unevolved, they would still, as latent capacities, be a part of
the original constitution of our spiritual nature — but by
rousing them into action, and furnishing them with those
accumulating and inexhaustible materials which are to be the
elements of future thought, and the objects of future emo-
tion. Every talent by which we excel, and every vivid feel-
ing which animates us, derive their energy from the sugges-
tions of this ever-active principle. We love and hate ; we
desire and fear ; we use means for obtaining good and avoid-
in o- evil, because we remember the objects and occurrences

COGNITIVE STEUCTUEE IN MAN. 215

which we have formerly observed, and because the future, in
the similarity of the successions which it presents, appears
to us only a prolongation of the past.

" In conferring on us the capacity of these spontaneous
suggestions, then. Heaven has much more than doubled our
existence ; for without it, and consequently without those
facilities and emotions which involve it, existence would
scarcely have been desirable. The very importance of the
benefits which we derive from it, however, renders us, per-
haps, less sensible of its value ; since it is so mingled with
all our knowledge, and all our plans of action, that we find
it diflScult to conceive a state of sentient being of which it is
not a part, and to estimate, consequently, at a just amount
the advantage which it afibrds. The future memory of per-
ception seems to us almost implied in perception itself ; and
to speculate on that strange state of existence which would
have been the condition of man if he had been formed with-
out the power of remembrance, and capable only of a series
of sensations, has at first an appearance almost of absurdity
and contradiction, as if we were imagining conditions which
were in their nature incompatible. Yet, assuredly, if it
were possible for us to consider such a subject a jjriori, the
real cause of wonder would appear to be, not in the absence
of the suggestions of memory, as in the case imagined, but
in that remembrance of which we have the happy experience.
When a feeling of the existence, of which consciousness fur-
nishes the only evidence, has passed away so completely that
not even the slightest consciousness of it remains, it would

216 THEISM.

surely, but for that experience, be more natural to suppose
that it had perished altogether, than that it should, at the
distance of many years, without any renewal of it by the
external cause which originally produced it, again start, as
it were of itself, into being. To foresee that which has not
yet begun to exist, is in itself scarcely more unaccountable
than to see as it were before us what has wholly ceased to
exist. The present moment is all of which we are conscious,
and which can strictly be said to have a real existence, in
relation to ourselves. That mode of time which we call the
past, and that other mode of time which we call the future,
are both equally unexisting. That the knowledge of either
should be added to us, so as to form a part of our present
consciousness, is a gift of Heaven, most beneficial to us, in-
deed, but most mysterious, and equally, or nearly equally, mys-
terious, whether the unexisting time of which the knowledge
is indulged to us be the future or the past." *

Nor is the Divine wisdom and benevolence alone manifest
in the simple power bestowed upon us of rej)roducing our
former thoughts and feelings, but especially in the actual
mode of their reproduction, according to certain definite laws.
This definiteness in the procedure of the suggestive faculty
is the sole condition of our being able to apply our experience,
and to make continued progress in the pursuit of knowledge.
It alone enables us to devise plans of acquisition, and to
calculate upon the results of education. Without it, we
might have enjoyed, in the power of reproduction, a variety

* Lectures, tenth edit., p. 217-218. .

COGNITIVE STEUCTUEE IN MAN. 217

of feeling, but it could have been of no use either for our
happiness or our cultivation. " He who has given us, in one
simple principle, the power of reviving the past, has not
made His gift so unavailing. The feelings which this wonder-
ful principle preserves and restores, arise, not loosely and
confusedly, but according to general laws or tendencies of
succession, contrived with the most admirable adaptation to
our wants, so as to bring again before us the knowledge
formerly acquired by us, at the very time when it is most
profitable that it should return. A value is thus given to
experience, which otherwise would not be worthy of the
name ; and we are enabled to extend it almost at pleasure,
so as to profit, not merely by that experience which the
events of nature, occurring in conformity with these general
laws, must at any rate have afforded to us, but to regulate
this very experience itself, to dispose objects and events so
that, by tendencies of suggestion on the firmness of which
we may put perfect reliance, they shall give us, perhaps at
the distance of many years, such lessons as we may wish them
to yield, and thus to invent and create, in a great measure,
the intellectual and moral history of our future life, as an
epic or dramatic writer arranges at his will the continued
scenes of his various and magnificent narrative." *

In our analysis of the cognitive structure in man we have
now reached an important stage. We have marked the great
facts of perception, memory, and suggestion, in their respec-
tive bearings on our subject. In the first, we have seen the

* Browji's Lectures, tenth edit., ^. 218.
P

218 THEISM.

mind presentative or intuitive (the subject standing face to
face with the objective reality in perception), in the second, re-
tentive, in the third, representative. It is desirable to notice
the peculiar advance of the mental capacity in this third
stao-e. It is no longer the immediate facts of nature with
which it deals.- It is no longer directly conversant with
the objective realities everywhere obtruded upon it, but
with its own reconstructions of these realities. It is not
the thing itself any more which the mind has before it,
but an image or representation of it. It has, as it were,
freed itself from the presence of the outward world, and
begun to construct for itself a new world of ideas. Here,
therefore, it enters into a far higher sphere of activity than
before.

From this point of advance the intellectual energy rapidly
develops into those various forms which have been sometimes
treated as so many separate faculties. In all of them there
is simply displayed, in a variety of modes and applica-
tions, the power of representation, or of forming ideas.
It will only be necessary for us to indicate the two main
directions which the mind assumes in these its higher pro-
ductive stages. These are, the understanding and the ima-
gination.

The mind having, in the process of reproduction, attained a
series of images or ideas of its past objects of perception, imme-
diately begins to bring these ideas into relation to one another.
This it does in different ways ; by fixing, for examj^le, upon
points of resemblance among its ideas, and out of these re-
semblances constituting a new general idea, — as when, from

COGNITIVE STEUCTUEE IN MAN. 219

several representations of individual men, we attain to the
general idea of man — a process well known as generalisation ;
or, again, by separating from different objects held in con-
templation some specific quality, and making of it a new
idea, — as when we recognise different objects as white or
cold, &c., the common property of whiteness or coldness
being constituted into a separate idea — a process equally
well known as abstraction. The mental act here, it is obvi-
ous, is not simply reproductive, but specially productive.
In the exercise of association the mind has already left
behind the actual objective world, to concern itself with its
own ideas, or reconstruction of that world. But these ideas
yet directly represent the original realities : the one looks
back to the other. Here, however, in the processes of gene-
ralisation and abstraction, the mind no longer looks beyond
its own forms or notions. Its ideas, from being mere repre-
sentations of past objects of perception, become, irrespec-
tive of all reference to such objects, fixed mental possessions,
which we contemplate by themselves, and by which we
carry on trains of reasoning.

It is necessary to state, however, that an indispensable
preliminary to this advance of intelligence is the power of
language, — a power which even emerges on the lower sphere
of simple representation, and is requisite to its development
to any extent. Without such a power, the mind might con-
struct representations of the objects of its past experience, as
is clearly done by the lower animals, but it could not hold
them before it freely when separated from experience. It
could not freely entertain and make use of its ideas without

220 THEISM.

a power of embodying them in signs.* And especially it
could not, apart from signs, begin that process of comparison
among its ideas which constitutes the special function of the
understanding. It is only when the mind has, through the
aid of language, fixed its representations, and given them, so
to speak, a new objectivity within its own realm, that it can
deal with them entirely by themselves, and, apart altogether
from the outward world, carry on that higher course of
activity which we peculiarly denominate thought.

The parallel range of mental activity, which we have
named imagination, is one in which the mind is still more
eminently productive. The term imagination, we are aware,
is often applied to a lower degree of mental power ; but
we think that it is far more appropriately confined to
that higher energy which, while dealing directly with
sensible images, and so far standing on a lower intellectual
platform than the understanding, yet even, in its ordi-
nary flights, carries with it often all the special activities
of the understanding — abstracting and generalising and
classifying its appropriate objects, as it weaves them into
new forms of interest or beauty.f It is this formative or

* See Morell's Elements of Psychology, p. 183-184, in which the peculiar
functions of what he calls the sematic power are exhibited with great clearness,
and to which the wi-iter has, in these few paragi-aphs on the imderstanding, been
considerably indebted.

•}• This would seem to imply that the imagination can only be rightly treated
after the logical faculty whose special process it presupposes. And this we
apprehend to be the truth. Mr Morell, in his recent work — admirable in many
respects — has not, according to our view, sufficiently distinguished imagination.
The term is applied by him to two mental processes, the lower of which appears
to be simply equivalent to what Stewart called conception, or the power we
possess of holding our ideas before us, separated from all immediate reference

COGNITIVE STEUCTURE IN MAN. 221

creative element, certainly, which is the constitutive one
of imagination in the highest sense. It may not inaptly be
considered to be the mental energy in its greatest heat of
productivity; not merely, as in argumentation, constructing
within the province of the abstract, building up some linked
structure of sequential beauty ; but constructing within the
province of the possible, and building up some " sunny
dome," outmatching the most subtle combinations of the
understanding. It is impossible for any to attend for a
moment to the simplest exercise of imagination, as it tran-
sacts itself even in those day-dreams which almost all
have, without perceiving that the main element of the exer-
cise is thus creative. The imaginative process is also an
intensely vivid one ; but it is not, as some have thought, its
vivacity which pre-eminently distinguishes it from other
phases of mental representation. This is merely the gleam
which the mental wheel emits in its glowing activity — the
flash of the intensely-quickened formative process. But it is
the formative element itself, and not its attendant light,
which constitutes imagination. It is the gift of creation
which makes the painter and the poet, — the workmen of the

to place or time ; and the higher (wliich he calls productive or creative imagina-
tion) is with him apparently nothing else than the general process whereby
the mind associates its ideas. This confusion of imagination with the
general power of association is, it appears to us, quite mistaken. For the
process of the recovery of our ideas, transacted under the guide of the laws
of association, does not necessarily involve a special creative element. The
mind may, in this process, be simply recoUective, although, no doubt, it often
also is eminently productive. Association may in any case, therefore, readily
pass into imagination. Yet in all cases imagination is something specific and
superior ; rightly ranking even above the understanding, because carrying up
the processes of the latter into all its more characteristic and important exer-

222 THEISM.

imagination. The vivacity is merely the bright accompani-
ment of the gift.

There is thus a striking alliance, and an equally striking
diversity, between the mental powers of ratiocination and
imagination. The one gives us science, the other art. The
one is the organ of discovery, the other of inventiveness, in
the noblest sense. The one deals with notions (concepts),
the other with images (pictures), conveyed through the
medium of the senses. From the intimate connecftion of
imagination with the senses, making them, as it does, directly
tributary in its highest workings — whereas the mind, in
reasoning, ranges only among its pure ideas — the former
might be supposed to be the lower faculty. Yet, from the
spiritual regions into which imagination can carry its flights,
it undoubtedly asserts for itself the loftier place and dignity
in the end. It enters into the infinite, which is throughout
a forbidden sphere to the understanding ; and, mediating be-
tween the appropriate inspirations of spirit and of sense,
the minister of both, it only reaches its true glory when
clothing the lower intuitions in the celestial garment of the
higher.

In reverting, in conclusion, to their specific bearing on our
subject, how powerfully do both these forms of mental energy
express the Divine wisdom and benevolence ! how directly
do they speak of an infinite source of mental fulness and
strength ! That high power of reflective investigation which
has constructed the vast and ever-expanding edifice of human
science, and searches with so penetrating an insight and so

i

COGNITIVE STEUCTUEE IN MAN. 223

powerful a range the heavens and the earth, to make them
tributary to its purpose ; and that still more marvellous
capacity, a delegated creator within its sphere, which has
wi^ought such exquisite combinations of poetry and of art,
accumulating treasures of wisdom and of beauty to our race
—surely these bespeak a Master Mind, whose image they
are, and whose beneficent glory they reflect.

224 THEISM.

§ IL— CHAPTER XIII.

EMOTIVE STEUCTURE IN MAN.

We pass finally, in this section of evidence, to a brief consi-
deration of the emotive sphere of our nature, which is very
rich in results for our purpose. It is its emotional capacity
which imparts to human life all its peculiar and ever-fresh-
ening interest. It may be possible to conceive a being
made capable of intellectual without emotional activity.
" We might, perhaps,'' says Dr Thomas Brown, " have been
so constituted with respect to our intellectual states of
mind, as to have had all the varieties of these, our remem-
brances, judgments, and creations of fancy, without one
emotion. But without the emotions which accompany them,
of how little value would the mere intellectual functions
have been I It is to our vivid feelings of this class we must
look for those tender regards which make our remembrances
sacred — for that love of truth and glory and mankind,
without which, to animate and reward us in our discovery
and diffusion of knowledge, the continued exercise of judg-
ment would be a fatigue rather than a satisfaction ; and for

EMOTIVE STEUCTUEE IN MAN. 225

all tliat delightful wonder which we feel, when we contem-
plate the admirable creations of fancy, or the still more
admirable beauties of their unfading model— that model
which is ever before us, and the imitation of which, as it
has been truly said, is the only imitation that is itself origi-
nality. By our other mental functions we are mere specta-
tors of the machinery of the universe, living and inanimate;
by our emotions we are admirers of nature, lovers of men,
adorers of God. The earth, without them, would be only a
field of colours, inhabited by beings who may contribute,
indeed, more permanently to our means of physical comfort
than any one of the inanimate forms which we behold ; but
who, beyond the moment in which they are capable of
affecting us with pain or pleasure, would be only Hke the
other forms and colours which would meet us wherever we
turned our weary and restless eye ; and God himself, the
source of all good, and the object of all worship, would be
only the Being by whom the world was made." *

The truth is, that while it may be possible for us to
imagine intellectual life apart from emotional, we cannot
imagine any development of the one without the other ; for
the advancement of knowledge and of civiHsation, if the
direct product of our intellectual, is no less truly the indi-
rect product of our emotional nature, the one being called
into activity all along its course only by the other. All the
progressive springs of humanity take their rise in our emo-
tional being. In virtue of it alone do we own the spur of a
happiness which is never satisfied, and of a glory which is

* Brown's Lectures, tenth edit., p. 339.

226 THEISM.

still distant. In the very fact, therefore, of our combined
emotive and cognitive activity, we are bound to recognise
the wisdom and goodness of the Creator. How blank and
unbeneficent would life have been as a mere round of pas-
sionless intellectuality I Where would have been all that
now makes its charm, and renders it, amid the gathering
darkness of death, still dear ? Where would have been all the
most exquisite products of literature and of art, without pas-
sion to portray or interest to kindle ? And we must surely,
then, acknowledge the beneficence of the Hand which has
clothed life with all those soft and tender attributes — that
garment of ever-varying emotion which makes it truly life.
Here, indeed, we shall find the most abundant traces of the
Divine goodness.

We do not attempt any systematic analysis, far less any ex-
haustive classification, of the emotions. Here, as everywhere,
our purpose only requires, and our space can only afford, a
general glance at the phenomena which crowd upon us.

Among the lowest and most universal group of emotions
seem to be those which serve to guard, and, so to speak,
intrench life, of which Alarm on the negative side, and
Anger * on the positive, may be considered the generic
expressions. -f" Throughout the whole course of animal

* We are sensible that these very names alreadj' suggest an inference unfavour-
able to the benevolence of the Creator. But here, as before, we must ask a post-
ponement of judgment as to the hostile suggestions which everjrw^here neces-
sarily arise with the very first statement of the e\'idence for the Divine goodness.

+ See Dr M 'Vicar's ingenious and highly i:>\\i\osoi')hica\ Imptir)/ into JIuman
Nature, which the writer has very advantageously consulted on this part of his
subject.

EMOTIVE STEUCTUEE IN MAN. 227

life these emotions are found deeply implanted. In the
feeblest animal forms, alarm is seen manifesting itself on
the approach or the contact of any unknown object. And
as we rise in the scale of being to man himself, the motive
becomes, indeed, less obtrusive in its modes of operation,
more refined and disguised in its character, but not less
really present and powerful. It lives a silent yet watchful
sentinel in every human bosom, conservative not only of
life, but of all that gives beauty and dignity and happiness
to life. How vividly, for example, does it reign in the
mother for the care of her offspring ; in the householder for
the care of his goods ; in the citizen for the care of the com-
monwealth ; in the maiden for the care of her virtue ! It is
everywhere the guardian of life and its treasures. When-
ever life becomes intensified, fraught as with a deeper wealth
and fulness of possession, there alarm, however undemon-
strative, stands a more vigilant guardian. And did it not
do so— were the soul not readily fluttered and put up when
destruction threatened— what an invaded and desecrated
thing would life soon become !

The continuation of alarm — not merely the first move-
ment or flutter of the soul, but the prolonged emphasis
of the emotion— becomes fear,— apprehension,— inciting to
escape from danger. The object of alarm, if not removed,
has a constant tendency thus to pass into an object of fear.
Terror, which sometimes stands for the generic emotion,
seems certainly more correctly regarded as its highest excess,
betokening the comparative feebleness of the subject of it.

228 THEISM.

The danger is so imminent and threatening that the mere
gTiardian impulse loses itself in that species of convulsive
agitation which we specially denominate terror. Panic,
again, is contagious alarm. The simple emotion has a ten-
dency to propagate itself from heart to heart, and as it
propagates, it kindles into intenser forms, till it becomes
that general and helpless movement of fear which we call
panic.

Along with this class of emotions may be reckoned another
class, different in character, yet also allied, as revealing some-
thing of the same cautionary character. Of this class, sur-
prise and wonder may stand as specimens. These emotions
we experience on the presentation of some new, striking, or
unexpected object. We pause and are arrested, but do not,
as in alarm, feel any impulse to retreat. Wliere the exciting
cause is not novelty, or unexpectedness, but something great,
unknown, and but dimly suggested, wonder becomes awe.
These emotions are not, like the preceding, directly conser-
vative, but they involve a conservative element ; and it is
remarkable that they all readily pass over into alarm, or some
of its directly associate feelings. They all tend to drive the
soul backward within itself; while yet, by a strange paradox,
often marking (as all true and comprehensive observers
know) the deepest facts of nature, they also tend to draw it
forth and detain it before the exciting object. It is this
balance of movement, the oscillation of backwards and for-
wards, of retreat and advance, which makes the pause so
characteristic of these emotions.

The great generic emotion of anger is perhaps even more

EMOTIVE STEUCTURE IN MAN. 229

actively conservative in its character than alarm ; for it is
positive, while the latter is only negative. It furnishes
weapons of defence, while the other only instigates to flight.
Dr Thomas Brown has described it very finely and eloquently
under this point of view. So obviously is it the view under
which it falls to be considered, that all which he says regard-
ing it is little more than a representation of the beneficial
ends which it thus subserves. "There is a principle in our
mind," he says, " which is to us like a constant protector—
which may slumber, indeed, but which slumbers only at
seasons when its vigilance would be useless— which awakes,
therefore, at the first appearance of unjust intention, and
which becomes more watchful and more vigorous in propor-
tion to the violence of the attack which it has to dread.
What should we think of the providence of Nature, if, when
aggression was threatened against the weak and unarmed at
a distance from the aid of others, there were instantly and
uniformly, by the intervention of some wonder-working
power, to rush into the hand of the defenceless a sword, or
other weapon of defence ? And yet this would be but a
feeble assistance, if compared with that which we receive
from those simple emotions which Heaven has caused to rush,
as it were, into our mind for repelling every attack. What
would be a sword in the trembling hand of the infirm, of the
aged, of him whose pusillanimous spirit shrinks at the very
appearance, not of danger merely, but even of the arms by
the use of which danger might be averted, and to whom,
consequently, the very sword, which he scarcely knew how
to grasp, would be an additional cause of terror, not an

230 THEISM.

instrument of defence and safety ? The instant anger which
arises does more than many such weapons. It gives the
spirit which knows how to make a weapon of everything,
or which, of itself, does without a weapon what even a
thunderbolt would be powerless to do in the shuddering
grasp of the coward. When anger arises, fear is gone ;
there is no coward, for all are brave. Even bodily infirmity
seems to yield to it, like the very infirmities of the mind.
The old are, for the moment, young again ; the weakest
vigorous.'' *

Resentment is the deepened and prolonged form of anger ;
and where the simple emotion might be impotent for the
defence of invaded rights, this becomes a formidable guar-
dian of them. Those who might brave the temporary heat
of anger, would yet shrink from the sustained energy of
resentment.

Indignation, in the twofold import which it seems to bear,
is simply a modification of anger. As an individual emotion,
it may be defined to be anger restraining itself from a sense
of the un worthiness of the object exciting it — as when we
feel indignant at some affront offered us — a kind of mag-
nanimous anger. But it seems to be most characteristically
a social emotion — anger propagating itself in the social body,
at the sight or the recital of some great wrong done. In
such a case the common heart is stirred, and drawn forth in
an attitude of resistance. The injury committed kindles a
widespread feeling, which gathers strength as it passes from
heart to heart, and finally flames forth in a glow of indig-

* Brown's Lectures, tenth edit., pp. 419, 420.

EMOTIVE STKUCTUEE IN MAN. 231

nant opposition, before which the sternest injustice must
tremble, and which is undoubtedly one of the strongest safe-
guards of social virtue and happiness. At the same time, as
Dr Brown has acutely pointed out, there is an admirably
benevolent provision in the working of this emotion, where-
by it is prevented becoming that inconvenient and excessive
sentiment — passing over into acts of injustice, perhaps worse
than those against which it was directed — which it would be
otherwise ever apt to become. It is only by some very fla-
grant wrong that it is powerfully excited, and, for the most
part, it tends speedily to expend itself. Were it diff'erent
— were members of the same community not only disposed
to share in feelings of anger for each other's wrongs, but
to experience such feelings with the same readiness, and
in the same proportion, as the special sufferer, the conse-
quences would be utterly destructive. There would then
be no check to individual anger, which, propagating itself
with an ever-kindling force, would swell to a mischievous
and overbearing height. Indignation would no longer be
a privilege, but an intolerable burden. " The zeal of the
knight of La Mancha, who had many giants to vanquish,
and many captive princesses to free, might leave him still
some moments of peace ; but if all the wrongs of all the
injured were to be felt by us as our own, with the same
ardent resentment and eagerness of revenge, our knight-
errantry would be far more oppressive; and though we
might kill a few moral giants, and free a few princesses, so
many more would still remain, unslain and unfreed, that we
should have little satisfaction even in our few successes.

232 THEISM.

How admirably provident, then, is the Author of our nature,
not merely in the emotions with the susceptibility of which
He has endowed us, but in the very proportioning of these
emotions so as to produce the greatest good at the least
expense even of momentary suffering/' *

In ascending among the higher emotions, which no longer
merely tend to conserve life, but to develop and advance it,
we reach a region where the unceasing confluence of the
phenomena seems almost to defy attempts at analysis and
grouping. The simplest which present themselves are, per-
haps, those of which the element of complacency or satisfac-
tion may stand as the type. This element of emotion might
have taken first rank in our enumeration, both on account
of its comprehensiveness, and its being so directly suited
to our purpose. It abounds in the lower animals, displaying
itself in frequent playfulness and pervading happiness. In
man, its range is very diversified, from the mere rude content-
ment which is half corporeal, to the cheerfulness which sheds
a daily sunshine on the heart, the gladness which claps its
hands, the delight which flashes with a quick and outburst-
ing warmth, the most exalted joy, and the most spiritual
rapture. It may be called the normal expression of the
emotional power. It marks the tone which in health and
security this power gives forth — -just as pleasurableness, in
the same case, is the proper expression of sensation. The
natural condition of the one and of the other, when no inva-
sion has taken place of the life which they manifest, is a
feeling of enjoyment. This, as already observed, is a fact of

* Brown's Lectures, tenth edit., p. 421.

EMOTIVE STRUCTURE IN MAN. 233

the highest significance for our subject, speaking, in the
most convincing language, of the goodness of the Creator of
a life so fraught with happiness.

It is true that here, as along the whole line of sensibility,
there is an opposite side — a shadow tracing the brightness.
There is a parallel group of emotions of an antagonistic
character, at least as varied in their range as those of which
we have been speaking — from the tempered vein of sadness,
and the quick acuteness of regret, to the dark brooding of
melancholy, the vehement flow of sorrow, the bitterness of
anguish, and the agony of remorse. But — not to speak of
the strange element of enjoyment which often lies concealed
in some of these painful emotions, nor yet, just now, of their
discipKnary virtue, often converting them into the highest
good — we merely point here to the fact of their being, as
on their very front they so obviously bear to be, invaders
of the natural life of emotion. They emerge as elements
of disorder and conflict, interfering with the free flow of
emotional activity, and so present themselves, from the first,
as difficulties requiring a higher calculus for solution than
that which their own nature simply aff'ords. This is un-
doubtedly the meaning which such phenomena of suffering
bear to all who most thoughtfully contemplate human
existence. They are recognised as out of the course of the
Divine order, as seeming contradictions to it, but not, by
any means, as per se destroying that order, and making it a
nullity. They are recognised as anomalies needing explana-
tion (further than what they contain in themselves), but not
as absolute contrarieties entitled to negative the good, with

Q

234 THEISM.

which they appear at variance. To all who have gone
beyond the mere surface of speculation, the good is felt,
under whatever appearances to the contrary, to be the
Divine order, of which the evil is an invasion.* The paral-
lel existence of evil is not entitled to set aside the good, but
only to arrest us in our full conclusions regarding it. It
does not destroy our theodicy, — it only leaves it imperfect.
The Divine meaning of nature, on the very lowest view,
is not altogether doubtful and contradictoiy, but only
incomplete.

There is an important class of emotions which relate them-
selves by an intelligible process to those now considered.
Conscious complacency, or the simple emotion turned back
upon itself in contemplation — what we commonly call self-
complacency — would seem to be their common basis. Such
emotions as gladness, joy, rapture, are eminently distin-
guished for their unconscious character. They are all self-
forgetting. The emotive capacity in them overflows round
some other object ; and the moment the overflow ceases, and
returns upon itself, the jDleasurable feeling so far disappears.
Happiness shrinks from self-contemplation ; and we may
thus see the rationale of the reaction that often takes place
in pleasurable emotion of an excessive kind. The tide of
feeling having passed far out, exhausting itself in the eff'ort,
is naturally liable to retreat upon itself to a corresponding-
extent. In the purely antagonistic emotions, as will be

* The bearing of this thought — which goes to the very root of Theism, and
tlie logically consistent denial of which involves, as it may chance, Atheism or
Pantheism — will be more fully considered in the sequel. So much seemed here
inevitably suggested by the nature of the phenomena under consideration.

EMOTIVE STEUCTUEE IN MAN. 235

seen on the least reflection, self is all predominant and
obtrusive. The emotive capacity, instead of passing forth
towards another, is concentrated within ; and it is this feel-
ing of self-concentration which in melancholy, and especially
in remorse, constitutes the characteristic misery of these
emotions. In the class of emotions to which we now pass,
the element of self appears also obtrusive, but not in the
same way. It is not in them necessarily or characteristi-
cally associated with pain ; on the contrary, the common
ground of all of them would seem to be a reflex feeling of
pleasure. Yet they have, it is remarkable, in their reflex cha-
racter, a constant tendency to pass over to a painful excess.

Of this class of emotions, pride is one of the most dis-
tinguishing. In its most general form, it seems to be
simply self taking the measure of its own claims alongside
those of others. It always implies this element of com-
parison. When the comparison is made with fairness, we
recognise the propriety of the feeling — as in the common
expression, a proper pride. Where, again, the comparison is
grossly mistaken and over-estimated by self in its own
favour, the feeling assumes that excessive form, in which it
becomes so odious to others, and often such a source of
misery to its subject. Vanity seems again to be the simple
pampering of self-complacency — self dwelling on its own
image till it can scarcely find interest or beauty in any other.

Directly converse to such emotions are those of humility
and modesty. The former may be defined to be the simple
opposite of pride — the retirement of self from the assertion
even of rightful claims Avhich it might prefer before others.

236 THEISM.

It, too, seems always to involve an element of comparison ;
and, in a similar manner to i^ride, it may so greatly and
obviously mistake the comparison as to become disagreeably
excessive. The only case in which it can never do so, is in
reference to the Supreme Being, before whom the most
extreme retirement of self is not only appropriate, but
demanded. And hence we recognise the primary import-
ance of this emotion in religion. Modesty is also, may we
not say, a species of self-denial — self shrinking from the
acknowledgment of claims of which it is yet dimly con-
scious. It is self-repressive, peculiarly; and yet self does
not, as in humility, retire out of sight. It is this curious
balance of emotion, in which self is negatived, and yet, with
a vaguely conscious justice, stands forward (the internal
conflict betraying itself in the suffusion of the face with
blushes), which gives to modesty that special charm which
all recognise in it.

The large and diversified group of emotions of which
tenderness is the most diffused element, and love the most
expressive type, may next engage attention. They operate
over human life with a vast influence, and invest it with its
most solemn and beautiful interest. They are all of a social
character, binding the race into families, and pervading it
from rank to rank with reciprocal relations of the most
happy and beneficent kind.

There is no range of emotion more enlarged or more
minutely subdivided than this of tenderness, not to speak of
the antagonistic range of emotions which here also lies
alongside. All the aff'ections are based on it, from the mere

EMOTIVE STEUCTUEE IN MAN. 237

fondness of infancy to the exquisite passionateness of sexual
and parental regard. It embraces equally the tranquil interest
of friendship and the lofty zeal of patriotism. It is the chord
which vibrates in the warm-heartedness of the host, the
geniality of the old schoolfellow, and the kindness of neigh-
bourhood. Compassion and sympathy are among its most
influential manifestations, springing from a fountain of good
in the social bosom, and spreading around them, as they flow,
unnumbered blessings. Eespect, esteem, veneration, blend-
ing as they do to a greater or less degree merely intellectual
elements, may all be traced back to it ; and finally, worship
is best expressed by the name of love, in which at once
the emotion culminates, and of which throughout it tes-
tifies. This form of moral feeling is the flower of the emo-
tive capacity. It is the richest and worthiest outgoing of
man's spiritual activity, the course of which is everywhere
and always more continually beneficent, and which, in this its
inexhaustibleness, or rather ever-accumulating force of good,
contains the pledge of its own peculiar immortality. In its
more special meaning it has been supposed * to imply not
merely the going forth of good towards an object, but the
meeting of good in that object, the term benevolence being
used to express the love of that which in itself does not con-
tain any love-worthiness. There is only, as it were, room
for love after benevolence has accomplished its end, in bring-
ing the object into a state of wellbeing or love-worthiness.
There is something in this distinction, and yet we question
the propriety of so fixing down or confining the name of love.

* Dr M 'Vicar's Inquiry, p. 127.

238 THEISM.

The distinction seems to ns to be not between one species or
shade of affection and another, but rather between a complete
and incomplete enjoyment or fruition of the same affection.
Love may certainly, in the purest and loftiest sense, go
forth towards wretchedness, but it cannot, so to speak,
complete itself towards it by embracing it till the wretched-
ness is turned away. So far, however, we apprehend, is
love from being postponed till this result, that it is the very
energy and activity of the love concentrated on the object
which accomplish the result.

The pleasure which attends the exercise of the benevolent
affections has been rightly considered a special proof of the
Divine goodness. The mere existence of these affections
sufficiently shows that goodness. The mere presence of
love in human life, pervading and beautifying it in so
many forms, attests the presence of love in the great
Source of that life. But the fact of our not only having
such emotions implanted in us, but of our deriving
from their exercise such pure delight, while the gratifica-
tion of the opposite evil emotions is accompanied with
pain, is a fact of peculiar significance. Tor what is its
language? Does it not say with clearest force that the
good alone is divine ? We are so constituted, that in impart-
ing happiness through the channel of any one of the bene-
volent emotions, we ourselves experience happiness ; while,
on the contrary, through the indulgence of envy or hatred,
or any other of the malevolent emotions, we ourselves suffer
in imparting suffering. So radically is the good fixed in our
natures that its violation thus avenges itself. Putting out

EMOTIVE STRUCTURE IN MAN. 239

of question, then, in the mean time, how such evil affec-
tions emerge in human nature — looking only at its actual
constitution — it seems impossible to imagine how it could
have borne stronger testimony to the Divine goodness ; for
it not only expresses the good, but delights in it. The good
is not only, notwithstanding all that may be said to the
contrary, the most prominent fact in human nature, but it
thus approves itself to be the only normal action of human
nature. Our delight in welldoing says, as powerfully as it
is possible to say it, that man was made to be good and to do
good ; or, in other words, that the Author of his being is good.
The partial happiness that lies in the indulgence of evil affec-
tions, expressed in the word gratification, equally used with
reference to them, does not at all militate against this conclu-
sion, for this is simply an accidental result of their accom-
plished activity. They and all our mental activities cannot
express themselves successfully without a certain measure of
enjoyment ; but such is the essential destructiveness of the
evil that its very gratification is in the end its most perfect
misery. Its continued successes, affording a minimum of
enjoyment all along its course — as in the case of the drunkard,
or the continued gratification of hatred or cruelty — become
its accumulating curse. Nature thus every^vhere bears her
testimony against the evil, stamping it with her reprobation
amid whatever apparent triumph — uttering her voice against
it, however it may exalt itself — and so declaring, in the most
emphatic and unceasing language, that the good alone is
divine ; or, in other words, that God is good, and alone
loveth good.

240 THEISM.

The foregoing ranges of emotional activity are found for
tlie most part represented throughout the sphere of animal
existence, while yet only reaching their highest expression in
man. We now approach a class of emotions which there is
reason to think are peculiar to the human mind — a class which,
for our general jDurpose, may be sufficiently designated as the
emotions of taste — including our sentiments of harmony,
beauty, sublimity, and their opposites. We can only here
indicate the fact of these emotions, and their bearing on our
subject ; their analysis, it is well known, involving some of
the most keenly-contested problems in psychological science.
It is sufficient, in our point of view, to observe their high
use in man's constitution. They are, and have ever been,
recognised among its most delightful springs of elevated
progress. They minister purely to mental gratification and
culture, and have no lower function in reference to our mere
animal nature, a fact which sufficiently accounts for their
being confined to man. This feature of the emotions of
taste has been pointed out with his accustomed acuteness
by Dr Thomas Brown, and the appropriate theological
inference so well expressed by him that we gladly avail
ourselves of his language.* " In no part of our nature,'' he

* Apart from the appropriate beauty of Dr Brown's language, we have not
hesitated, on another account, to avail ourselves of it to the extent we have done
in this chapter. It is peculiarly satisftxctory to present the conclusions for
which we naturally seek in the words of one to whom they came by force of
their own clearness and strength, while engaged in the mere analysis of the
phenomena, without any view to their theological meaning. It has seemed an
advantage that it should be thus clearly seen that we are not led to impose a
meaning on the phenomena which they do not in themselves naturally and
irresistibly suggest.

EMOTIVE STEUCTURE IN MAN. 241

says, " is the pure benevolence of Heaven more strikingly
conspicuous than in our susceptibility of the emotions of this
class. The pleasure which they afford is a pleasure that has
no immediate connection with the means of preservation of
our animal existence ; and which shows, therefore, though
all other proof were absent, that the Deity who superadded
these means of delight must have had some other object in
view in forming us as we are, than the mere continuance of
a race of beings who were to save the earth from becoming
a wilderness. In consequence of these emotions, which have
made all nature ' beauty to our eye, and music to our ear,' it
is scarcely possible for us to look around without feeling
either some happiness or some consolation. Sensual plea-
sures soon pall even upon the profligate, who seeks them in
vain in the means which were accustomed to produce them,
weary almost to disgust of the very pleasures which he
seeks, and yet astonished that he does not find them. The
labours of severer intellect, if long continued, exhaust the
energy which they employ, and we cease for a time to be
capable of thinking accurately, from the very intentness and
accuracy of our thought. The pleasures of taste, however,
by their variety of easy delight, are safe from the languor
which attends any monotonous or severe occupation ; and
instead of palling on the mind, they produce in it, with the
very delight which is present, a quicker sensibility to future
pleasure. Enjo3rnient springs from enjoyment ; and if we
have not some deep wretchedness within, it is scarcely pos-
sible for us, with the delightful resources which nature and

242 THEISM.

ait present to us, not to be liappy as often as we will to be
happy." *

There is a further large group of emotive powers, whose
special significance in human life will by no means allow us
to pass them by. They are distinguished from those pre-
viously reviewed by a special character of activity and com-
plexity. The mind no longer simply feels, but desires. A
special energy has arisen in the bosom, of some simple men-
tal experience, which goes forth, often with great force, in
search of its object. The desires, therefore, in the emotional
sphere, are parallel to the appetites in the sensational. In
both, the attitude of the mind is no longer merely that of
feeling, but of Avishing.

Desire is almost endlessly diversified, according to its
objects, which it were in vain to try to enumerate. Dr
Brown has summed up the more general and important
forms of desire in a tenfold series. But if it were neces-
sary for us to attempt such an analysis, it would be
easy to reduce them to a broader and more general basis.
We are inclined to think, indeed, that, according to a right
interpretation of the first of Dr Brown's series, all the others
might be considered simply modifications of it — viz. the
desire of life. If we understand life to mean the sum not
only of physical but of mental existence — a sense in which
we may say it is parallel with happiness (everywhere, as we
have seen, its proper correlate) — all our desires will be
found to be only various forms of the desire of life, or, in
other words, of pleasurable activity. Desire only responds

* Brown's Lectures, pp. 393, 394.

EMOTIVE STKUCTUEE IN MAN. 243

to pleasure in some shape or another. Whatever may be
the object, it is only as it is seen to be pleasurable that it is
desired. The desire of life, therefore, in our sense, may be
made to include every other mode of desire.

Dr Brown, indeed, seems to think that there may be a
desire of life — of simple existence — apart from any consi-
deration of pleasure ; * but it appears to us that he has here
confounded, with what alone can be properly called the
desire of life, the simple movement of self-preservation.
This latter, however, has no title to stand as an emotion —
it is a mere blind ineradicable instinct. It is so truly
ineradicable, and almost physical in its character, that it may
be found asserting itself even in the hour of self-destruction.
The desire of life, on the contrary, is a special mental feel-
ing, entertained and cherished with various degrees of
force, and capable, in certain cases, of being altogether
overpowered and destroyed. And what are our desires
of pleasure and of action (the second and third of Dr
Brown's series), but the desire of intenser forms of life?
And our desire of knowledge, what is it but simply the
desire of life in a more exalted and interesting character
than hitherto experienced ? And so of power, which is only
the equation of knowledge ; and equally of property, which
is but another name for power. And again, what is the
desire of society but the desire of life intensified in a
different direction — viz. from contact with other life ? As
life is essentially active, so is it essentially circulatory
— only reaching its fall being in mingling and sharing

* Lectures, p. 438.

244 THEISM.

with other life. The desire of life, therefore, involves the
desire of social contact and circulation. And in a being of
intelligence and morality like man, we cannot imagine this
desire of contact with other life — of sharing and mingling
in it — without the desire of also approving himself to it.
Hearts meeting (which is just moral life in circulation)
cannot but seek to commend themselves to each other ; and
what is this but the desire of the affection and esteem of
others ? And in this way we have run over nearly the whole
of Dr Brown's series.^

But desire is not only thus comprehensive as an emotion
in relation to its objects ; it presents itself, moreover, in
various important modifications — such as hope, expectation,
confidence, and ambition. Hope is one of the most pervad-
ing, as it is one of the most delightful, of all our emotions.
It is also one of the most thoroughly educative of them all,
ever keeping the soul in an attitude of forwardness — ever
embellishing with bright visions the dim future, and quick-
ening it in their pursuit. It is hope alone which sustains
and upholds us amid the actual difficulties of life. Desire
alone would have been comparatively inadequate for such
a purpose, as it relates the soul to its object merely in
an attitude of liking — it says merely that the object is
good ; whereas hope represents the object not only as
good, but as within reach — not only as likeable, but also as
attainable. Hope is, therefore, not only " desire intensified "

* It is needless to say that wo do not claim for this analysis any scientific
worth. It may seem, indeed, that in making the desire of life, as pleasurable
activity, the type of our various desires, we are merely saying that desu-e, iu
all its forms, is desire.

EMOTIVE STEUCTUEE IN MAN. 245

(this will not give in its full character the complex emotion),
but desire with a new element of strength in it, which
enables the soul to go forth towards its object, not only
with additional eagerness, but already, as it were, in pro-
spect to lay hold of it. When we hope for an object, we
always, indeed, desire it intensely ; but we have also already
a deeper interest in it — a more personal relation to it, so to
speak — than any mere desire can give. In expectation,
again, we have a still firmer and more secure relation to
the object, and confidence is the height of expectation.
Ambition, on the other hand, would seem to be the mere
over -growth of desire, carrying the mind forward to-
wards its object with an energy which no obstacles can
turn aside.

Curiosity is a special form of the desire of knowledge so
important as to deserve separate mention. It is undoubt-
edly one of the most provident and benevolent principles of
our mental constitution. It is the harbinger of intelli-
gence in the infant breast ; and, nursed by continually new
incitements, it becomes the ever- strengthening spring of
mental progress. It may be truly said to be inexhaustible
in its workings, pausing merely to collect itself for a fresh
advance, and — what especially serves to reveal the benevo-
lence of the hand which implanted it — evolving ever, as
it operates, fresh pleasure. " Can anything," says Lord
Brougham, " be more perfectly contrived as an instrument
of instruction, and an instrument precisely adapted to the
want of knowledge, by being more powerful in proportion
to the ignorance in which we are ? Hence it is the great

246 THEISM.

means by which above all, in early infancy, we are taught
everything most necessary for our physical as well as moral
existence. In riper years it smoothes the way for farther
acquirements to most men ; to some, in whom it is strongest,
it opens the paths of science ; but in all, without any excep-
tion, it prevails at the beginning of life so powerfully as to
make them learn the faculties of their own bodies, and the
general properties of those around them — an amount of
knowledge which, for its extent and its practical usefulness,
very far exceeds, though the most ignorant possess it, what-
ever additions the greatest philosophers are enabled to build
upon it in the longest course of the most successful investi-
gations." *

The phenomena of desire, generally, are among the most
characteristically benevolent in their intention of any in the
human constitution. Apart from them, it may be possible
to conceive human life prolonged through the force of the
mere instinct of preservation, emotionally defended on all
sides as it is ; but, without desire, how stupid and aimless a
thing would life have been ! The greatest intellectual capa-
city would have been a mere slumbering potentiality — a
mere vague dream, or rather nightmare, of power, from
which there could have been no awakening. But, as it is,
desire, expressing itself with the first movement of life, and
strengthening with its growth, becomes the great educator of
all our other activities. Under its quickening operation it
is that the helpless child is trained to various degrees of
manly or womanly culture and excellence — from the skilful

* Discourse on Natural Theology, pp. 55, 56.

EMOTIVE STEUCTURE IN MAN. 247

craftsman to the lofty poet or philosopher — from the gentle
doer of good deeds at home to the arduous and untiring
philanthropist. It is thus truly the unslackening spring of
human progress, relaxing not even in the hour of death ;
but, amid the withdrawal of all the objects of present
desire, carrying the soul forward in hope and triumph to
other and higher regions of mental and moral development.*

* " They desire a better country, that is, an heavenly." — Heb. xi. 16.

SECTION III.

MOEAL INTUITIVE EVIDENCE,

§ III— CHAPTEE I.

MOEAL INTUITIVE EVIDENCE.

The theistic evidence universally runs back into a region of
First Truths or Principles, It rests only on a definite spir-
itual philosophy, as we have seen in the outset. It remains
to be further seen how it only attains to its highest force and
significance in the same region. An attentive examination
of certain features of our spiritual life will be found to 5deld
a set of theistic elements of a peculiarly direct and impor-
tant kind, which are necessary to complete our evidence, and
to carry upwards the conceptions of power, wisdom, and
goodness, already unfolded, into the full conception of God.

We deem it unnecessary to enter into any question as
to the separate force and value of this department of evi-
dence. All such questions are, according to our view, quite
irrelevant. For the genuine apprehension of the theistic evi-
dence is not that of a series of separate and independent
proofs, but that of a great scheme of argument presenting
itself under a variety of aspects. All special instances of
design derive their conclusive force from certain principles ;

252 THEISM.

and these principles again must be seen in practical manifes-
tation, in order to bring before us a lively and clear impres-
sion of the Divine existence and attributes.

In assigning a distinctive name to this section, we do not
mean, therefore, to detach it from our inductive scheme of
evidence. We mean simply to point out the distinctive
range of inquiiy before us, which is sufficiently marked off
from that in which we have been engaged. We are no
longer merely to be concerned with facts from which we
are warranted to infer Divine wisdom and goodness, but
with facts which, in a peculiar sense, reveal to us God,
which bring God before us intuitively, rather than in the
ordinary inductive way. We enter among those prime
elements of our spiritual constitution which are the appro-
priate organs of the theistic conception. This conception,
in its radical form of cause, took its rise in this region, and
here no less is it found to complete itself

This may serve to explain the views of some of our
highest thinkers as to the supposed conclusive force of the
moral, in comparison with all other evidence for the being
of a God. Kant, after submitting to a destructive criticism
all the other modes of theistic evidence, as separately appre-
hended in his day, made the existence of God a postulate of
our moral being ; and Sir W. Hamilton has expressly said
that " the only valid arguments for the existence of a God,
and for the immortality of the human soul, rest on the
ground of man's moral nature.'' * Now, in so far as such
views merely imply that to the region of moral conscious-

* Philosophical Discussions, p. 595.

MORAL INTUITIVE EVIDENCE. 253

ness must be traced the foundation of the theistic aroument
and its peculiar seat, we are prepared to coincide with
them. But we cannot assent to any view which would
limit the evidence to this region. It finds here its pecu-
liar home ; but it by no means stops here. Springing from
the depths of our moral consciousness, it is taken up by
the intellectual common sense ; and the special argument
from design is neither more nor less than the application
which is thus made of the primary theistic principle. It
becomes us not to forget the origin of the principle — through
which alone the idea of design is tenable — but it becomes
us also to acknowledge the appropriate value and the clear
and impressive bearing of this idea, as applied to the
display of the Divine attributes. The theistic evidence is
only seen in its full strength when it is thus recognised in
its full comprehensiveness.

254 THEISM.

§ TIL— CHAPTER 11.

FREEDOM — DIVINE PERSONALITY.

The fact which demands our consideration in this chapter is
of the utmost importance, not only in respect of the theistic
meaning which still remains to be drawn from it, but as
constituting, moreover, the real foundation of our whole evi-
dence. For already, in our preliminary chapters, its reality
was presupposed, and the weight of our initiative conclusion
made to rest upon it. It is, therefore, eminently the theistic
fact round which, as their rational nucleus, all the others
gather.

The exact character of the fact is to be carefully kept in
view. It is of this sort : Is man's rational being essentially
distinct from nature ? Does it constitute a source of acti-
vity, in a sense altogether unique and contradistinguished
from any other movements we perceive in nature? While the
latter, through all its range, is a mere series of sequences, of
arrangements, and re-arrangements, in the same unbroken
flow, is there in man something wholly different, which
cannot be resolved into any mere play of sequences, but

FEEEDOM — DIVINE PERSONALITY. 255

constitutes a source of power ? Is there, in short, a soul in
man ? This seems to us the last and simplest reduction of
the question. According to the affirmative view of this
question, mind, in its full meaning, is not only something
specifically different in its manifestations from matter, but
something in its root and character essentially contradistin-
guished from matter. In the various forms, indeed, in which
it expresses itself, or becomes phenomenal, it obeys the same
law of sequences which obtains among all other phenomena ;
but in its spring and source it wholly evades this merely
natural law, and refuses to be bound by it. It is only in
this apprehension of mind that we found that fact of effi-
ciency with which we set out, and without which our argu-
ment has no rational basis whereon to rest.

This fact of a free rational activity, or soul in man, is
implied in every form of spiritual philosophy, and appears
to constitute the essential basis of all theology. It has, how-
ever, beyond doubt, been greatly obscured by certain views
which have long held sway, both in philosophy and in theo-
logy. These views have been all the more powerful that
they express so far an undoubted truth, and have been sup-
posed to bear with a peculiar effect upon the confirmation of
certain Christian doctrines. In so far as they can be held
consistently with our fundamental position — and we cannot
imagine any Christian necessitarian denying that position —
we have, of course, no controversy with such views. It must
at the same time be observed, and deserves to be carefully
considered in such a discussion as the present, that whatever
consistency there may be between a true doctrine of neces-

256 THEISM.

sity, and that assertion of a free rational activity in man
which is the basis of our argument, and however that doc-
trine may be authorised by great names, it is yet in no sense
a Christian doctrine ; and that those truths of Scripture, in
whose defence it has been supposed to be triumphantly
wielded, are wholly independent of any logical strength
thence derived, as they had, in fact, assumed their place in
the great scheme of Protestant belief long before any of
those formal enunciations of the doctrine of necessity, to
which so much weight has been attributed.

The best way of clearing up the bearing of such views
upon our position will be by a brief re-statement and exa-
mination of it. We shall approach it from facts formerly
reached. Already, in the mere presence of sentient and even
organic life, we found, in some sense, a centre of action.
Every such existence develops itself from within. But this
development is, in such cases, bound to an immutable neces-
sity of nature. It is throughout physically conditioned.
The evolution of self is, on this lower platform of life, a mere
determination of natural causes. The question before us is
one which concerns the character of this self-evolution in
man. Is it in him nothing more than it is in the lower
animals — the mere play of nature, " the mere result of
physical succession ;" or is it something wholly peculiar, and,
if not independent of nature, yet by no means subject to it ?
Do we find, in short, within us not merely a power of ac-
tion, under the impulse of physical causes, but a power of
action wliich owns no law ah extra, but is what we call free?
That we have some such power of free action, not merely a

FEEEDOM — DIVINE PERSONALITY. 257

feeling of self, which would seem to be the condition of all
mental existence, but a feeling of what has been called self-
determination or choice, cannot admit of dispute. Every
one must allow that he has such a power of doing what he
will. All language and all social practice imply so much.

But this, it is said, is little to the point : for while it is
admitted that man seems to act freely — nay, that, in a cer-
tain sense, he does so act — it is nevertheless true that his
action always follows the strongest motive, just as effect
follows cause. Inasmuch as he cannot act without motive,
the motive felt by him to be the strongest at the time, and
under which he does act, is the cause of his action. His
rational activity analysed is found to be everywhere encom-
passed by a subtle atmosphere of motives strictly and rigor-
ously conditioning it. All the particular facts of his mental
life are thus only links in a great chain of necessity, although
he may not feel them to be so. The law of cause and effect
obtains among them, and binds them all, no less surely than
it is found to regulate and control all other facts. In these
views there is an amount of truth which none now dispute,
however they may object to the language in which it is
sometimes expressed. It is undeniable that man's intellec-
tual and moral being, in all its most subtle and complex
manifestations, shows the same order that we everjrwhere dis-
cover in nature. It was our special aim, in previous chapters,
to expose, in some degree, this order. If this, therefore, be
all that is anywhere meant by the doctrine of necessity, that
doctrine must be held as expressive of an important truth.
But something far more than this is maintained by most

258 THEISM.

necessitarians, and seems to be logically implied in the doc-
trine. They mean not only to assert that man's rational
activity displays itself under the same law of cause and effect
as the course of nature does, but that there is really nothing
more in it than this display. Volition goes forth under
motive ; motive, again, is dependent on organisation, or at
least on some external cause ; and this is all. The whole
question plainly lies in this higher region. What constitutes
motive ? What is the spring of the order which is univer-
sally admitted to obtain among the facts of man's spiritual
being, no less than among all other facts ? Is that spring-
in nature, and bound to its immutable sequences ? or is it
deep in the central being of the man himself, and essentially
separated from nature ? The materialistic necessitarian holds
as his cardinal principle the former of these views. He
knows nothing beyond the mere series of phenomena which
collectively he may call Mind. Any spiritual unit or soul
beneath the multiplicity, and therein expressing itself, while
yet essentially distinguished from it, has no place in his sys-
tem ; and quite consistently so. The theological necessitarian
of course shrinks from this conclusion, but his lanouao;e has
not unfrequently been such as to bear it out. Carrying up
with an iron hand the phenomenal law of cause and effect
into the region of spiritual life, he may have seemed to gain
a temporary triumph over an adversary ; but he has done so
too often at the risk of total peril to his faith, and to the
very ground and condition of all religion.

The true advocate of liberty, on the other hand, simply
maintains that in the last resource the mind or soid is

FREEDOM — DIVINE PERSONALITY. 259

unconditioned by any natural cause. The self-conscious
reason, or ego, is incompressible by the law of phenomena.
It only is, and lives in opposition to that law. The spring of
the soul's activity is ever within the soul. It displays itself,
no doubt, serially, in regular obedience to the strongest
motive ; but the strength of the motive comes from within,
from the soul's own preference ; otherwise it would be truly
no motive, but would for ever remain a mere inducement
or solicitation presenting itself to the mind. It is always
the mind's own act that changes a mere inducement into a
motive, and leads to action. According to the well-known
pithy sajring of Coleridge, "it is not the motive makes the
man, but the man the motive."

The liberty thus defined, it may deserve to be remarked,
is entirely different from the old imagination of a liberty of
indifference. This latter represented the mind, as it were,
in equilih'io, till it put forth the power of choice among
the motives bearing upon it. It placed the soul, as it were,
on one side, and motives on the other, and pretended to give
an explanation of the mode of action between the two. The
true theory of liberty makes no such pretensions ; it knows
nothing of the soul save as active. An abstract potentiality,
which of its own sovereignty keeps itself apart from motives,
or yields to them at pleasure, is in no respect recognised by
it. It simply contends, that in every case of actual human
conduct the motive power is from within the soul itself, and
not in any respect physically conditioned. It simply says
that man is free to act, but it does not pretend for a moment
to explain the mode of his freedom. This it so little does

260 THEISM.

that it acknowledges the fact of human freedom to be in its
very character inexplicable.

This character of mystery — of irresolvability, under the
great inductive law of cause and effect — comprises, in
truth, all that can be argumentatively said against the
doctrine of liberty. The fact will not come within the
conditions of our logical faculty, and must therefore be
repelled. But this is a thoroughly vicious mode of argu-
ment : for, by the very supposition, the fact transcends
these conditions ; and to reject it on this account is simply
to beg the whole question. If this fact be at all, it is pri-
mary and constitutive, and therefore not to be reasoned to,
but from. It stands at the head of our rational nature as
its source. And as such a source — as the inherent activity
whence all our mental modes are born — the fountain whence
they flow — the me, of which they are the varied manifesta-
tions— it defies the application of that inductive law under
which they arise, and for the very reason that it is what it
is — not any one of these modes, but the root of them all —
not any of the manifold sides of consciousness, but the
unity in which all its sides centre. In this view it is not
only not wonderful that we cannot understand freedom, but
the fact is such in its very idea that it is impossible we ever
can understand it, transcending as it necessarily does that
logical power of which it is the condition. Thus appre-
hended in its primitive distinction, it leaves us no alternative
but to abide by it in its necessary incomprehensibility. It is
there — we are bound to recognise it. But we have no claim
to comprehend it, for (as logicians) we do not contain it — it
contains us. "Whatever we are in our mental and practical

FEEEDOM — DIVINE PEESONALITY. 261

character is just the expression of this mysterious person-
ality, to which all our activity leads back, and from which it
all flows.

It is as the irresistible testimony of consciousness that
this fact forces acceptance. It attests its reality within us,
and we cannot get quit of it under whatever ingenuity of
explanation. On this ground the advocate of liberty has an
advantage which is wholly indisputable; for that we feel
ourselves to be free, none can truly deny. This feeling — our
deepest and most ineradicable consciousness — the doctrine of
necessity cannot accept as a fact ; or, if it does, we have no
dispute with it ; only we do not see how it can consistently
maintain itself if it does. For the feeling cannot represent
a reality, and yet man's spiritual, no less than his material
being, be held as naturally determined. In such a case the
feeling can only be an illusion, and man a bondman, wholly
a creature of nature, howsoever he may seem every moment
to create a circle of free activity around him. But if con-
sciousness be thus held false, man is cast adrift on an ocean
of utter uncertainty. Truth becomes for him a mere dream,
if the voice within him be held incompetent to give it valid
utterance.

The deliverance of consciousness is, on the contrary, held
by the advocate of freedom to be at once decisive and ulti-
mate on the point. It is not, in his view, any mere dim
experience which disappears under analysis, but a truth
which makes itself good under whatever logical assaults.
The alternative is simply one of fact. The human conscious-
ness either tells the truth absolutely, unheeding how it may
clash with some other truth in the dim-lighted chamber of

262 THEISM.

the logical understanding:, or it must be admitted to be
false. No saving clauses of ingenious explanation will avail.
INIan is either free really, or he is not free. There is in him
a centre of action wholly peculiar, a naturally undeter-
mined source of activity, otherwise his deepest experience
belies itself, and his moral nature is a devout imagination.
There is nothing but the recognition of such a free agency
in man, however mysterious and unaccountable, that can
preserve to him faith in himself, or the perilous dignity of
responsibility among the creatures of earth. If he has not in
a true sense such a power of action springing from within
his own spiritual being, his consciousness deceives him, and
he is and can be nothing else than a mere irresponsible link
in the chain of phenomena.

As the only rational means of escape from such a conclu-
sion, consciousness must be held in its attestation of freedom
to express a reality, to declare a truth, admitting of no
exception, however ingeniously represented. Man must be
recognised as free in a sense quite peculiar, separating him
from all other earthly creatures. While owning, in the
actual course of his thought and volition, the great pheno-
menal law of cause and effect, there must be admitted to be
in him at the same time a mysterious centre of personality —
nothing else than the soul, which withdraws itself from this
law, and asserts itself against it.

What, then, is the bearing of this fact on our subject?
As we previously said, it is the most vital for our purpose in
our whole range of inquiry; but just corresponding with its
I)eculiar depth and importance is the difficulty of fully seiz-
ing and expressing its significance. We have already seen

FREEDOM — DIVINE PERSONALITY. 263

ill what respect it lies at the root of our inductive evidence
as the source of our idea of cause. The strange relation of
affinity and yet conflict which thus emerges between the
principles of personality and causality were an interesting
subject of consideration, but cannot occupy us here.* We
have at present simply to do with the direct import of the
fact of personality in the enlargement of our theistic evidence.
In tracing back our mental life, we have this fact as the last
word for reason. The Me asserts itself as an inscrutable
reality, beyond which we cannot go in the way of natural
explanation. It refuses obstinately to be related to any
higher fact, as a natural sequence. But have we not thus
reached a startling conclusion ? If the human ego be thus as
it so clearly pronounces itself to be, a cause in the highest and
indeed only true sense — viz. a naturally undetermined source
of activity — is it not thereby, in its very character, its own
author ? If undetermined, is it not necessarily independent ?
So far is this from being the case, that we here approach
the very peculiarity of the theistic meaning which this
prime fact yields us ; for, in the very act of expressing
itself, it is found to be its essential characteristic, at the
same time, to express Another. It only realises itself in
Another. The more we sink back into the depths of con-
sciousness, and the more vivid force and reality with which
we seize our personal being, as something unconditioned by
nature, and rising above it, the more directly and immediately
do we at the same time apprehend ourselves as relative
and dependent. The more we become self-conscious, the
more do we feel, at the same time, that the ground of

* See Note at the end of the chapter.

264 THEISM.

our existence is not in ourselves, but in Another and a
Higher. Our personality, in asserting itself to be distinct
from nature, yet with equal force asserts itself to be derived,
or, in other language, to take its rise in a Principle above
nature. The human self, in a word, irresistibly suggests a
divine Self; the limited cause, an absolutely original and
unlimited Cause.

It is true that we thus, in the last analysis, bring into
special prominence the logical incomprehensibility which
meets us in the testimony of consciousness. We realise
ourselves as free, and yet dependent. Nay, in our very
freedom we at the same time find our dependency. The
more we sink into ourselves, the more do we feel ourselves
to rest on a Higher. Just as we accept the testimony of
consciousness in giving us liberty — the soul's efficiency for
its own acts — so do we accept its testimony in giving a
relation to this efficiency in the All-efficient. Let it be
that we cannot construe to ourselves this relation intelli-
gibly — cannot compass it in thought — this is no valid
ground for rejecting either term of it. We can only do so
by tramjiling upon consciousness, and exposing ourselves
to the whole perO. of scepticism. The facts must be
accepted as given, however impossible it may be for us to
join them logically together; and for this obvious reason,
which, if it does not give satisfaction, ought yet to give
resignation, that our mere capacity of thought cannot, in
the nature of the case, be the measure of truth here nor
anywhere. Great master in its own sphere (in the evolu-
tion and determination of all the forms of science), it must
yet be content to be the minister of reality.

FREEDOM — DIVINE PERSONALITY. 265

It is requisite to observe the full import of our conclusion.
Our own personality not only gives another personality,
but another which is at the same time absolute. It is, in
fact, the special rational intuition of the absolute in the
relative — the infinite in the finite — which carries us beyond
the Self within, to a Self without and above us. How
vital, in a theistic sense, this intuition is, must therefore be
obvious. But it is not our aim at present to insist upon
the reality of the infinite which thus dawns upon us. This
reality will afterwards engage us separately. We would
now rather simply fix attention on the fact of Divine per-
sonality, so vividly brought before us.

Of all the facts of Theism this may be said to be the most
fundamental, as it is that in which all the others inhere, and
find their life. It is a fact which already we had virtually
found in the theistic conclusion which we established in our
first section. For an intelligent First Cause, according to
our mode of reaching and authenticating the idea, could only
be a living Personality. This great truth of the Divine
Personality, however, comes before us here with intuitive
brio;htness. It reveals itself as the clear reflection — the
ahglanz, as the Germans expressively term it — of our own
personality.* The Thou of our prayers rises in solemn
reality against our own most hidden self-consciousness. Our

* Those who are famUiar with the elaborate treatise of Dr Julius Miiller
on the Christian Doctrine of Sin, may recognise a similarity between the pro-
cess of theistic reasoning in this chapter, and that contained in the second
chapter of the first book of that treatise, p . 79, vol. i. et seq. The writer gratefully
acknowledges his obUgations to Dr Miiller here and elsewhere. It will be seen,
at the same time, that his own course of argument, in the present case, is suffi-
ciently distinctive.

S

26G THEISM.

deepest life centres in Another, in whom alone " we live,
and move, and have our being/' In comparison with every
other apprehension of God this apprehension of Him is
immediate and decisive. We rejoice to trace Him also in
nature ; we gladden to greet His presence in every bursting
flower, in every curious organism, in the heavens and in
the earth. But while we only search in nature, we search
as with veiled gaze, " if haply we might feel after Him, and
find Him." It is only in the depths of self-reflection — within
its most secret chambers — that we become conscious of His
immediate presence, and know that He is " not far from
every one of us."

NOTE.

There is a relation of the whole subject arising out of this chapter,
which can scarcely fail to suggest itself to the speculative reader, and
which may claim from us a passing notice, in case it should be sup-
posed that we have overlooked it. The basis of our preliminary rea-
soning, it will be remembered, was the rational necessity that com-
pelled us to find a cause at the head of nature. We cannot conceive
a mere endless series of relative phenomena. We must have a cause
or origin of the series ; or, in other words, according to our whole
view, an efficient Agent or Mind. Yet it is certainly true, as we
have freely admitted in this chapter, that we cannot comjDass in
thought, or conceive^ in this lower sense, such an efficient agent.
The argument seems to run up into a contradiction or antagonism
of inconceivabilities. And if we confine ourselves to the sphere of
mere thought or logical comprehension, there seems to be no escape
from the contradiction. We are bandied about from one horn of the
logical dilemma to another, in a hopeless state of confusion and per-
plexity. Let the speculative reader, who desires to see the contra-
diction which thus arises fully exposed, and in its bearing, too, on
the subject of this chapter, consult Sir W. Hamilton's Discu^iotis,
Appendix, p. 591 ct scq.

FREEDOM — DIVINE PEESONALITY. 2G7

Sir William's mode of escape from the difficulty we cannot accept.
The principle of causality he considers to be the mere issue of our
intellectual impotency to conceive anything save as related in time.
The principle of personality or liberty is with him equally the fruit
of a similar impotency to conceive an infinite series of relations.
Both, therefore, being mere impotencies of human thought, their
mutual contradiction does not necessarily imply the falsehood of
either.

The seeming contradiction vanishes with us in a different, and, as
we think, more satisfactory way. Causality and personality have,
in our view, one and the same root, which, from the first, is found in
a sphere beyond logic. So far from being the mere issue of opposing
negations, as Sir William Hamilton makes them, both principles
take their rise in the most living reality of existence, the ego. That
every effect must have a cause, means simply that everything im-
plies as its source a living agent or mind ; and this living agent
or mind is simply a personality. We cannot conceive things save
as the i^roduction of such a mind. Our reason demands such a mind.
The inconceivability here is a complete rational inconceivability.
There is no escape from it. And if it be also true that we cannot
logically conceive, comprehend, or contain in thought such a mind,
yet there is every difference between this and the inconceivability
in the former case. This is merely negative, springing out of the
necessary limitations of human thought. The former is not only
negative, but issues out of a positive demand of reason on the other
side. It would be more correct, in fact, to restrict the use of the
term inconceivable to the former case : for although we cannot think,
or construe to ourselves logically, an efficient cause or mind, such a
cause is so far from being inconceivable to reason that reason expressly
demands and affirms it. The reality of such a higher power of rea-
son, which inseparably blends with faith, and is the organ of the
unconditioned and insensible (see subsequent chapter), is implied in
our whole course of reasoning. The truths revealed in this higher
reason are not, properly speaking, inconceivable : they are only
incomprehensible. The intellect cannot compass them ; and this is
of their very natui-e, because they are what they are — primary and
not derivative.

2G8 THEISM.

§ IIL_CHAPTER III.

CONSCIENCE — DIVINE EIGHTEOUSNESS.

As freedom is the fundamental condition of our moral being,
so conscience is its guide and regulator. The soul, while
self-acting, is at the same time spiritually controlled. It is
then, indeed, most itself, most truly free, when most fully
informed and controlled by conscience.

As in the case of every other element of man's spiri-
tual being, the special character of conscience has been
greatly disputed. Philosophy has found here even a
favourite field of struggle. Among all our most earnest
thinkers, however, there may be said to be at length
something like unanimity in regarding conscience as a
primitive and distinct fact or faculty. The attempts
which have been made to resolve it into some simpler
element of our mental constitution have merely served
to prove the intimate alliance between conscience and our
other mental powers, and their necessary influence upon
its education and development. But in no case have
they sufficed fully to explain its origin. The most skilful

CONSCIENCE — DIVINE RIGHTEOUSNESS. 269

analysis of the association of ideas, or of our common intel-
lectual judgments, into both of which it has been sought to
be explained, still leaves a residuary element unaccounted
for, which, whatever name we give to it, is nothing else than
the germ which expands into the full moral reality which we
mean by conscience.

In its most general application it may be defined as that
element of our being by which we become conscious of duty.
It introduces man into a set of relations bearing to him the
peculiar character of obligation, which, however little he may
be able to analyse it, is felt by him in the strongest manner.
Viewed as a mental power, its chief peculiarity accordingly
consists in the position which it thus assumes amongst our
other powers. It not only perceives, but commands ; not
only points the way, but orders to walk in it.

Since the profound and luminous expositions of Butler, in
his Sermons on Human Nature, the attention of moralists
has been prominently fixed on this authoritative aspect of
conscience. Its special function has been recognised as that
of a guide and governor. It is impossible, as Butler has
pointed out, to dissociate from it the notion of direction and
superintendency. " This is a constituent part of the idea —
that is, of the faculty itself ; and to preside and govern, from
the very economy and constitution of man, belongs to it.''
" This faculty," he adds, " was placed within us to be our
proper governor ; to direct and regulate all under principles,
passions, and motives of action. This is its right and
office. Thus sacred is its authority. And how often soever
men violate and rebelliously refuse to submit to it, for sup-

270 THEISM.

posed interest which they cannot otherwise obtain, or for the
sake of passion which they cannot otherwise gratify, this
makes no alteration as to the natural right and office of con-
science/' Even when its judgments are set aside, or trampled
under foot, by the perverse force of the will, conscience,
as Butler here truly indicates, does not, rightly speaking,
lose its authority. It holds the transgressor in its grasp,
and can bring him trembling before its judgment-seat, even
when he would seem to have broken loose from all its
restraints, and completely overborne its power. It asserts
its sovereignty with a fearful reality, even although its sceptre
has been broken, and its throne desecrated. Aloft itself,
even among the ruins of its kingdom, it arraigns the stoutest
rebel, and often holds in cowering bondage the most reckless
criminal. " Had it strength, as it has right ; had it power,
as it has manifest authority, it would," in Butler's expressive
language, " absolutely govern the world."

It is especially this supreme and legislative aspect of con-
science which gives it significance for the natural theo-
logian. As a simple fact of creation it yields, undoubtedly,
hke every other fact, its appropriate testimony to the Creator ;
but here, in its authoritative import, is rightly recognised a
peculiar and important element of theistic evidence. For
the question immediately arises, whence this authority of
conscience? Does not the very fact of a law within us
directly testify to a Lawgiver without and above us ? Does
not the one fact, in its very nature, involve the other ? The
argument seems irresistible. The sense of government in

CONSCIENCE — DIVINE RIGHTEOUSNESS. 271

every heart can only proceed from a living governor, who
placed it there. The moral power within us, therefore,
gives, as its immediate inference, a Divine Power above ns.
Every one will recognise in our statement a form of the
theistic argument which, expounded by the zealous eloquence
of Dr Chalmers, has passed into familiar currency in our
natural theology. " The felt presence of a judge within the
breast,'' he says, " powerfully and immediately suggests the
notion of a Supreme Judge and Sovereign who placed it there.
Upon this question the mind does not stop short at mere ab-
straction, but, passing at once from the abstract to the con-
crete, from the law of the heart it makes the rapid inference of
a Lawgiver. The sense of a governing principle within, begets
in all men the sentiment of a living Governor without and
above them, and it does so with all the speed of an instan-
taneous feeling; yet it is not an impression — it is an inference
notwithstanding, and as much so as any inference from that
which is seen to that which is unseen. There is, in the
first instance, cognisance taken of a fact, if not by the out-
ward eye, yet, as good, by the eye of consciousness, which
has been termed the faculty of internal observation. And
the consequent belief of a God, instead of being an instinctive
sense of the Divinity, is the fruit of an inference grounded
on that fact. There is instant transition made, from the
sense of a monitor within to the faith of a living Sovereign
above ; and this argument, described by all, but with such
speed as almost to warrant the expression of its being felt
by all, may be regarded, notwithstanding the force and fer-

272 THEISM.

tility of other considerations, as the great prop of natural
religion among men/' *

It is a question of little moment for the substantial con-
clusion involved — which is good in either case — whether
the act by which it is reached be considered, with Dr
Chalmers, really inductive, or rather intuitive. This ob-
viously depends upon the further question as to what
are regarded to be the special constituents of conscience.
If we recognise it, with Butler, according to the view
already set forth, to be itself a delegated power, and
not merely the perception or revelation of a power, we
obviously leave room for an inductive step or inference.
We have in this view, as the immediate fact of conscious-
ness, a sense of authority which, as we cannot conceive it
to be self-constituted, we necessarily refer to a supreme or
divine Source. But if, according to the more simple view,
and what would seem to be the direct import of the name
conscience, we consider it as not in any way containing in
itself the power with which it rules us, but as directly reveal-
ing to us that power in another, then we leave no room for
induction. We have, in the very fact of conscience, the intui-
tion of the Divine will, just as we have in the fact of self-
existence the intuition of the Divine existence. As we
cannot realise our own being without at the same time
realising another and a higher Being, so we cannot become
conscious of duty, without at the same time realising
another and a higher Will. The moral law is to us
nothing more than the revelation of this higher or divine

* Natural Theology, vol. i. p. 331-332.

CONSCIENCE — DIVINE RIGHTEOUSNESS. 273

Will in the soul. We do not, therefore, need to rise from it
to God, for it is already the voice of God within us. We
are carried out of ourselves, so to speak, in the simple reality
of conscience. The authority which, in conscience, speaks to
us is not merely something from which we may infer a
divine Power, but is already the direct expression of that
I)ower.

This, upon reflection, we feel convinced, is the more just
and penetrating view of the subject. Preserving all the
truth of Butler's view, in even a higher form than he pre-
sented it, it gives, in a psychological respect, a more discri-
minating and consistent interpretation of conscience, than
when it is regarded as in itself both a perceptive and im-
perative faculty. Viewed simply as the organ of a higher
power, its psychological dignity is at once vindicated, and its
possible abuse readily understood. For let the organ be
untrained or neglected, and its intuition will be dim and ob-
scure, or even absolutely perverted. But let it be appropri-
ately disciplined, and its intuition will rise into clearness
and truth. We do not see, in any case, how conscience can
ever be adequately explained, without bringing into pro-
minence the theological meaning which it so essentially ex-
presses. Apart from God it would be an inexplicable riddle :
held as reveahng God, it becomes beautifully intelligible. It
is the light within whereby we perceive at once the Hand
that guides us, and, although more dimly, the destination
that awaits us.

We have not yet, however, exhausted the theistic signifi-
cance of conscience. It is not merely to the fact of a divine

274 THEISM.

Power that it testifies, but eminently to the character of that
power. The moral laAV, which it reveals, is not simply the
expression of a supreme Will, but of a Will which is essenti-
ally good and righteous. It is this, in truth, which gives all
its force to conscience. It is by the good alone that it
governs. It is the law of goodness which asserts itself
in the human heart, under whatever violation, and holds
itself a sovereign, even when its kingdom has been invaded
and laid waste. To this idea of a Good above man, claiming
his obedience, we alone owe the very conception of duty. It
is this which gives all its peculiar sacredness and beauty to
human life. Apart from it man would merely be as the
brutes around him, with no nobleness of piety in his heart,
and no long-suffering love mingling its purifying fires in his
lot. In conscience, therefore, we must recognise a peculiar
testimony to the divine goodness. As the organ of duty, it
is in fact specifically the revelation of the Supreme Good. It
brings man not only into converse with Goodness, but relates
him to it, as the power which binds him in his daily life, and
would guide him to daily happiness.

But the divine Goodness, to which conscience testifies, is
at the same time divine Righteousness. This is a further very
significant and wholly peculiar element of theistic evidence
disclosed in conscience. The Supreme Good interprets itself
here as the Supreme Right. This idea of Right is one which,
hitherto, we could not possibly have encountered; for it only
finds an application in the region of free moral life, where
it emerges correlatively with duty. It is the idea in which
alone duty finds its complement, and so becomes the sacred

CONSCIENCE — DIVINE EIGHTEOUSNESS. 275

bond which holds our moral being in harmony. The element
or attribute of righteousness is one, therefore, which a com-
prehensive natural theology must ever recognise in the Divine
Being. The broad and earnest mind of Dr Chalmers did,
perhaps, especial service in making this clear and prominent.
And it has since become more and more a matter of convic-
tion that Theism is not only bound to take up this element,
but that it furnishes, to some extent, the key to the profound
mysteries which lie around the special attribute of divine
goodness. Tor in order to perceive a benevolent meaning
in much that would otherwise seem opposed to benevolence,
we have only to see that goodness completes itself in right-
eousness, and can never validly come short of it. The concep-
tion of goodness becomes thus not only exalted, but discrimi-
nated. Whereas, in the lower regions of sentient and intel-
lectual life, the former attribute is apparent merely as a dis-
position to bestow happiness — here, in the light of the further
conception into which it rises, it appears before us as some-
thing which may, in the highest sense, assert itself, not cer-
tainly irrespective of happiness, yet apart from its immediate
bestowal — yea, even in the bestowal of partial and temporary
unhappiness. For, as the good is at the same time ever the
right, as love only sustains itself in holiness, so it becomes
conceivable that, where the right has been invaded, and the
holy desecrated, goodness may express itself most distinctive-
ly in suffering or punishment. This bearing of the subject
we now merely indicate, as it will afterwards come before us
for special consideration.

In the mean time we fix attention upon the fact of Righte-

276 THEISM.

ousness, as it has come before us at this upward point iii
the course of our theistic evidence. It is among the last
facts which meet us in the evolution of the idea of God,
which is the appropriate task of Natural Theology ; but in
another sense it is undoubtedly among the reasoned primary
springs of Theism. For there is no deeper or more univer-
sal source of the divine consciousness in every heart. It is,
above all, as a righteous power that God is spontaneously
known in the common mind. It is the ineradicable testimony
of conscience which, above all, preserves the sense of Divinity
in the world, amid the corruptions of passion or the delusions
of intellectual self-conceit. It asserts a divine Presence with
a cogency which no sophistry can parry, and no argument
gainsay. And while man retains within him this impressive
monitor, the belief in God can never cease, even although
the manifold adaptations of matter and of mind should fail
to arrest his wonder, and engage his study.

EEASON — INFINITY. 277

§ III— CHAPTER IV.

EEASON — INFINITY.

(a priori argument.)

Mind begins in faith, in holding for true the objective, pre-
sented to it in sensible perception. Thus intuitive in its
lowest energy, it is equally so in its highest. If, looking
outward, it has no further explanation to render of the
reality of the visible world than that it is present in apprehen-
sion, and therefore must be conceived as existent ; so, looking
upward from the sphere of finite reality, it perceives a higher
world of truth, which equally makes itself good in appre-
hension.

Such a higher power of intuition, by which we apprehend
realities beyond the region of the sensible, is one which is
admitted by every school of philosophy, save that which,
from the extremely unphilosophical assumption lying at
its basis, is bound to ignore everything beyond the sen-
sible.* At the same time, there have been endless disputes
as to the special name and character of this transcendant

* Even empiricism may be said to give us, under the form of generalisa-
tions, a mimicry of the truths which it yet denies.

278 THEISM.

intuition. For our purpose it matters not at all how it may
be specially designated, or even understood, so that its
reality is confessed ; whether, for example, it be identified
more with the intellectual or moral side of our being.
According to the only genuine conception of the human
mind, this is indeed a very irrelevant question, as there are
none of the sides of mental activity which can be strictly
demarcated from the others, all blending as they do end-
lessly into one another. Whether, therefore, this loftiest
energy of the soul — which relates it to a sphere of uncondi-
tioned objectivity, as the lower intuitional power relates it
to the sphere of the conditioned — be conceived of as intel-
ligence in the highest sense (the NoOs), or as faith, it is for
us of no consequence. As forming the highest expression
of our mental activity, it seems eminently to deserve
the special name of reason, which has often been applied
to it.*

The infinite is the peculiar object of this higher intuition.

* This employment of the term reason, to denote the special faculty of the
supersensible or unconditioned, is very old, although it may be true, accord-
ing to Sir W. Hamilton {Ed. Reid, note A, p. 769), that it has only been gene-
rally used in this sense since the time of Kant. Its justification seems to be
simply this, that the highest energy or expression of the human mind may
very well receive pre-eminently the name which is characteristic of its general
nature. Certainly, if the name is to be appropriated to any special power or
faculty, it ought to be appropriated to this highest and most aspiring faculty,
which brings us into communion with the spiritual and the infinite. If such
an interpretation of reason were kept steadily in view, the supposed conflicts
between it and faith, which have been so long the bano and oi^probrium of
Theology, would speedily disa2)pear. For thus they would be clearly seen to
form a unity of power, in which the whole soul, intellectually and practically,
goes forth towards the truth. In our older and best theology this is the \\ew
under which reason is presented. — Vide Hooker's Eccles. PoUt., hook i. chap.
vii. et seq.

EEASON — INFINITY. 279

It is the revelation of reason as the finite is the revelation
of sense. There is no reality, apprehended under a diver-
sity of forms, which holds a more living possession of the
human mind. The various notions of substance, space, dura-
tion, which constitute the necessary truths logically presup-
posed in all phenomena of sense and reflection, and which
reappear in all metaphysic as its essential data, are merely
different modes under which the infinite makes itself known.
The very variety of these, its expressions, and the obstinacy
with which, under whatever denial, they cling to the mind,
only serve to display the richness of the generic truth in
which they all inhere, and of which they are merely mani-
festations.

The mode in which we have approached this subject
seems to dissipate many of the controversies which have
incumbered it. It serves to show the reality of the infinite
as an element or constituent of human knowledge, without
in any degree aiming to bring the infinite as an idea within
our reach. So far as we try to seize or compass it in
thought — or, in other words, hold it before us as an idea — it
can, in the nature of the case, only present itself as a nega-
tion. It evades us in the very attempt to contain or com-
prehend it. But while the infinite is thus incomprehensible
as a subject of thought, it is directly apprehensible as a
reality of reason. Negative as an idea, it is positive as a
fact. While we cannot think it, yet we cannot want it.
It reveals itself as an implicate of all our more special men-
tal conceptions, and it may therefore be said to guarantee
itself in the very hold which it thus keeps of the soul, under

280 THEISM.

all the baffling attempts of the understanding to compass it.
And this is admitted by Sir W. Hamilton, in language
than which we could desire nothing more plain as a confes-
sion of all that we really contend for. " We are thus taught/'
he says, " the salutary lesson that the capacity of thought is
not to be constituted into the measure of existence, and are
warned from recognising the domain of our knowledge as
necessarily coextensive with the horizon of our faith. And
by a wonderful revelation we are thus, in the very con-
sciousness of our inability to conceive aught above the rela-
tive and finite, inspired with a belief in the existence of
something unconditioned beyond the sphere of all compre-
hensible reality." *

In the same point of view we see the fallacy of the
Kantian doctrine of the infinite. Admitting it as a regu-
lating idea of human knowledge, Kant yet denied to it any
objective validity. The idea, according to him, might be
necessary to us, and yet not represent a reality. And so it
mio-ht were the ideal or notional the mode in which the
infinite is alone present to us. But this is so far from being
the case, that the idea, as present in the understanding,
is only the dim reflection of the fact present in reason.
The infinite comes to us intuitively, and not notionally ;
and in this the very mode of its apprehension afiirms its
reality. The soul looks upward, and the light of the infinite
dawns upon it. It presents itself as an objective presence
— a self-revealing vision — and is not wrought out as a mere
ideal projection from our mental restlessness. It is felt to

* Philosophical Lisaissions, p. 15.

REASON — INFINITY. 281

be a reality containing and conditioning the soul, which,
with all its power, it cannot think away ; and this it could
not be, were it a mere self-created form of the soul. The
declaration of consciousness here, no less than in sensible
perception, gives, as its indisputable contents, subject and
object, in immediate and inseparable relation. In the one
case as in the other, the mind " gazes upon its object with an
immediacy which suffers no error or doubt to intervene, and
gives in this way a guarantee for its legitimacy which it is
impossible to resist.'' It is now, in fact, admitted on all
hands, that Kant's denial of objectivity to the ideas of pure
reason, and his virtual readmission of their reality as postu-
lates of the practical reason, is the most inconsequent and
feeble portion of his whole philosophy— and on the special
ground, already so often stated by us, that we cannot
legitimately disjoin the intellectual and the moral — the
pure and the practical— and hold their deliverances asunder.
Certainly we cannot leave out of that highest spiritual
faculty we call reason, the element of faith, without de-
stroying its essential character, and making it merely a
higher form of the logical understanding. It is of the )/
very essence of reason — regarded by us as the apex of
the soul's activity — its consummate energy, — to be at once
pure and practical, cognitive and moral. We have, in the
last case, no higher name for knowledge everywhere than
belief. And this belief, as Sir W. Hamilton says, is mis-
taken by Kant when recognised as " a mere spiritual crav-
ing." It is rather " an immediate manifestation to intelli-
gence— not as a postulate, but as a datum — not as an

282 THEISM.

interest in certain truths, but as the fact, the principle, the
warrant of their cognition and reality/' *

No one has dwelt more fully upon the function of reason,
and its use and value in natural theology, than M. Cousin.
But while others have erred in undervaluing it, he has erred
in unduly magnifying it, or rather in losing sight of the
human in the Divine reality. It is not with him, in any
distinctive sense, a human power through which we merely
apprehend God as the one ultimate and absolute Substance
and Cause ; but it is, even in its human appearance, a sort
of divinity — " not, indeed, the absolute God, but His mani-
festation in spirit and in truth — not the Being of beings,
but the God of the human race.'' f

The characteristic error of Cousiq seems to consist in a
too extreme recoil from the subjectivity of Kant. Looking
at the great constitutive idea of the infinite, in the various
phases in which it is found to underlie all our mental opera-
tions— as, for example, the universal in space, the eternal in
time — Kant concluded that these were the mere forms or
categories which the mind, the ego cogitative, imposes upon
itself He thus denuded them of objectivity, and thereby,
as we have seen, contradicted the testimony of conscious-
ness in reason, which embraces not only a subject, but an
object — which declares the soul not only to be conversant
with such notions, as regulative forms of its own activity,
but to be directly and primarily conversant with the reality

* E(L Held, Note A, p. 793.

t Fragmeiis Philosophiques, preface de la premiere edit., p. 36-37. Paris
1849.

EEASON — INFINITY. 283

in which they all inhere. Looking at these same notions,
Cousin, on the other hand, is not content to accept them as
intuitively made known to the human reason, but he insists
upon them as realities apart from the human ego, and,
indeed, any ego whatever. They were only the forms of the
human ego with Kant : the ego has nothing to do with
them, says Cousin ; for reason, which expresses or contains
them, is impersonal* But this is to talk in a language
which is to us wholly unintelligible ; for we can have no
conception of reason which is unrelated to personality.
Apart from the latter element it is a mere abstraction,
equally unmeaning with the materialistic abstraction of law,
and equally calculated to play the same pantheistic or
atheistic part of exalting itself in the place of God. The
contents of reason are, no doubt, realities altogether apart
from the human ego ; but how they can be known or
manifested to us, save as apprehended by that ego, seems a
puzzle of peculiar hopelessness. The fact appears to be,
that personality, or the ego, is understood by M. Cousin as
something subordinate and inferior, with the action of which
it is degrading to associate reason; and here again he is
found somewhat strangely meeting the views of the mate-
rialistic school most opposed to him.

Our position is equally opposed to both these extremes.
The infinite is apprehended by us as a reality in the strong-
est manner, but then the evidence of this reality is directly
found in the intuitive apprehension of the ego. It is re-

* Fragmens PMlosophirj^ues, preface de la premiere edit., vol. iv. p. 21, See
also preface de la deuxieme edit., p. 5Q.

284 THEISM.

vealed in the rational consciousness, and in its revelation
sufficiently attests its existence. Our reason relates us to
the infinite, and lifts us into communion with it. It is thus
to us the ever-sufficient evidence of the Divine reality ; but
it is itself only a feeble and broken shadow of that reality.
It looks forth into the invisible, and finds there its living
Author; yet it is deeply conscious of its own weakness, while
conscious of its affinity with the Divine Presence which
there meets it, and from which it comes.

This infinite Presence in space and in time is the com-
plement of man's spiritual being at all points. It asserts
its power in the human mind in manifold ways, that can
only be accounted for by its truth. Apart from its shadow
in the intellect, science could not exist : knowledge would
be a mere perplexed and confused accumulation. This, how-
ever, brings a unity into all our mental operations. Reason
descries an infinite meaning everywhere, and science is the
creation of such a gift. Apart from this reality in the heart
life would be vanity. The higher glory of eternity could not
encompass and strengthen it. It is only the truth of the
Infinite that gives significance to speculation or persever-
ance to well-doing.

In natural theology this predicate of the Infinite is at once
the most consummate and comprehensive that rewards our
inquiry, without which every induction must come short of
the proof of a Divine Existence. It gives, as its essential
contents, not only all those special attributes of eternity,
omnipotence, omniscience, of which it is simply the generic

EEASON — INFINITY. 285

expression ; but, moreover, the unity of these attributes,
in which the idea of God alone completes itself For unity
is plainly a logical condition of infinity ; and, manifold as
are the indications of unity in nature, it may be doubted
whether these could give us more than a unity of Divine
purpose, whereas our conclusion requires a unity of Divine
Essence. It attains to its full meaning only in the admission
of one " all-powerful, wise, and good Being, by whom every-
thing exists.''

The special question of the validity of the a priori argu-
ment for the being of a God here comes before us directly ;
and although our relation to it can scarcely fail to have made
itself intelligible to the philosophical reader, it may yet
deserve from us a special consideration.

The pretension of the a priori argument is the logical
evolution or demonstration of the truth of the Divine exist-
ence from some element or datum admitted to be indisputable.
In order strictly to maintain its character, this element ought
to be one ineradicably given in our modes of thought — an
intellectual point of which we cannot get rid, but which we
continue to think in the very attempt to think away. Such
is our notion of infinity ; and all a priori reasoning for the
being of a God will be found to rest on some phase or other
of this notion. It errs not in its appeal to such fundamental
necessities of human thought, but in its attempt to construct
out of them a logical demonstration of the Divine Existence.
We will confine ourselves, for the sake of illustration, to

286 THEISM.

what is commonly known as the Cartesian* argument.
The argument of Dr Clarke, in so far as it is a priori, lies
open to the same criticism. This argument, however, as
already observed in the Introduction, is not strictly a priori^
setting out as it does from an express fact of observation or
of sensible experience. The remarkable argument of Mr
Gillespie,-|- which, as a specimen of a priori speculation, cer-
tainly claims to be ranked along with anything in British
philosophical literature, comes still more directly within the
scope of our objection.

We select our statement of the Cartesian argument from
the replies to the Objections to the Meditations,X where it is
found in a form the most rigidly demonstrative, and which
may very well stand as the type of all possible a priori
argumentation on the subject. The following is the pro-
position to be proved, and the mode of demonstration: —

* The name of Des Cartes has been especially associated with the a priori
argument, and to him must undoubtedly be allowed the merit of having
launched it, as a pregnant problem, into the current of modern speculation.
The argument, however, in all that it essentially imports, is as old as the first
dawn of scholasticism, of which it is so genuine a product. The germ of it is
to be found in the writings of the great father of the Scholastic Philosophy
(Augustine, 2d chap. De Lib. A 7-bit. ) and in the writings of Anselm and Aquinas.
In those of the former it is even set forth in a strictly formal and scientific
manner, which the student may consult as presented in Hagenbach's History
of Doctrines, vol. i. p. 443 et seq.

It is a somewhat ciu-ious fact to find Des Cartes, who so emphatically stands
at the head of our modern free inquiry, the patriarch of that speculative spirit
which has born such strange fruits of intellectual daring, and who himself
manifests in his Meditations a tone of such intense originality, reverting to a
familiar doctrine of the expiring scholasticism as one of the most fundamental
principles of the new philosophical certitude which he aimed to establish.

•^ The Necessary Existence of Deity. By William Gillespie. Edin. 1836.

X Objections aux Meditations, p. 460-461 ; CEuvres de Des Cartes. Par Cousin.
Vol. i. Paris : 1824.

EEASON — INFINITY. 287

Proposition.—" The existence of God is known from the
consideration of His nature alone/'

Demonstration.—'' To say that an attribute is contained
in the nature, or in the concept of a thing, is the same as to
say that this attribute is true of this thing, and that it may
be affirmed to be in it. ''

" But necessary existence is contained in the nature, or in
the concept of God.''

" Hence it may with truth be said that necessary existence
is in God, or that God exists. "

This argument, be it observed, sets out from the con-
ception of God, and infers, simply on the ground of this
conception, the fact of His existence. More particularly, it
infers this fact, because necessary existence is an essential
element of the conception of God; that is to say, our concep-
tion of God, as the all-perfect or the infinite, includes this
special phase of the infinite, necessary existence ; — and there-
fore God exists. The character of the conception is made
the proof of the fact. This seems to us a fair explica-
tion of the argument. We do not now dwell upon the
paralogism which it may be said to involve in starting
from the conception of God, which is yet the very thing to
be found. We would only fix attention upon the inference
by which it passes from the concept to the reality— from
the idea to the/ac^. Instead of uniting the soul to objec-
tivity by the very character of its affirmation in reason, the
Cartesian sets out with the subjective and reasons to the
objective. The infinite real is with him a logical inference
from the infinite ideal (apprehended separately)— the con-

288 THEISM.

Crete from the abstract. A purely intellectual necessity-
is reoarded as demonstrative of an actual existence. Ac-
cording to our representation, on the other hand, the infinite
is not apprehended as in the mind at all apart from reality,
but as a revelation of reality from the first — as, in short,
not logically but intuitively given. The postulate of rea-
son is a reality, and the logical necessity of the Cartesian
is the mere reflection in the understanding of this encom-
passing reality, which stands face to face with us in reason.
In the one case, the infinite is apprehended as a fact in the
truthful mirror of intuition ; in the other case, the mind is
merely busy with a set of abstract ideas, which are nothing
else than the shadow (reflection) in thought or logical form
of the intuitive fact.

If, with the Cartesian, we take our stand amona: these
abstract ideas, we believe that we can never, by any process
of proof, reach the conclusion at which he aims. The infinite
ideal can never logically yield the infinite real. Kant's famous
criticism of the Cartesian argument has, we think, established
so much beyond all dispute. He has shown, with an acuteness
and power of reasoning which it is impossible to resist, that
this argument, in passing from the abstract to the concrete,
confounds a logical with a real predicate, — or, in other words,
stealthily translates a mere relation of thought into a fact
of existence, which it does not and cannot contain. The fol-
lowing illustration, used by Des Cartes, will make this
clear. The quotation is from his statement in the Prin-
ciples of the same argument which we have already given
in the more precise form in which it is found in his

EEASON — INFINITY. 289

answers to Objections : " Just as because, for example,
the equality of its three angles to two right angles is
necessarily comprised in the idea of a triangle, the mind is
firmly persuaded that the three angles of a triangle are equal
to two right angles ; so, from its perceiving necessary and
eternal existence to be comprised in the idea which it has
of an all-perfect Being, it ought manifestly to conclude that
this all-perfect Being exists/'

It is impossible not to see at once that there is a plain
fallacy here. The idea of a triangle includes the equality of
its three angles to two right angles ; therefore the three
angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles. This is
simply to affirm an identical proposition — that proposition
being the invariability of the intellectual conception ex-
pressed by a triangle. The idea of an all-perfect Being
includes necessary existence ; therefore this all-perfect
Being exists. This, on the contrary, is not simply to affirm,
as in the former case, an identical proposition, which would
have been only to this effect, that necessary existence is an
essential constituent of the idea of an all-perfect Being, but,
tacitly and illegitimately, to pass from the relation of an in-
tellectual conception to the reality of the thing conceived ;
whereas the only reality that can be given, as in the parallel
case of the triangle, is the reality of the relations of the
intellectual conception.

Kant pursues his argument in the following manner,
which may perhaps serve to set it more thoroughly before
the reader: ''If I do away with the predicate in an iden-
tical judgment, and I retain the subject— that is to say, do

290 THEISM.

away with the equality of the three angles to two right
angles, and yet retain the triangle, or do away with necessary
existence, and yet retain the idea of an all-perfect Being — a
contradiction arises. But if I annul the subject together
with the predicate, then there arises no contradiction, for
there is no more anything which could be contradicted. To
assume a triangle, and yet to do away with the three angles
of the same, is contradictory ; but to do away with the
trianaie toa'ether with its three ano;les is no contradiction.
It is just the same with the conception of an absolutely
necessary being. If you do away with the existence of this,
you thus do away with the thing itself, together with all its
predicates (in which case there can be no contradiction).
. . . God is omnipotent ; this is a necessary judgment.
The omnipotence cannot be done away with if you suppose
a Divinity — that is, an infinite Being, with the conception of
which the fact is identical. But if you say, God is not,
neither the omnipotency, nor any other of His predicates, is
then given ; because they are all annihilated together with
the subject, and in this thought there is not manifested the
least contradiction.'' *

The Kantian criticism must, we think, be fairly allowed
to be destructive of the Cartesian demonstration. However
a mere abstract idea may indicate a corresponding reality

* Kritih der reinen Vernunft, p. 458 ; Kant's Werkc. Leipzig : 1838. — The
matter is perhaps best of all cleared up by Kant's well-known distinction of
analytic and synthetic judgments. The equality of three angles of a triangle
to two right angles is what he called an analytic judgment ; that is to say, a
simple writing out of the conception already given in a triangle. The predi-
cate J) is already in the subject A. Again, existence, as a necessary element
of the conception, God, is in a similar manner an analytic judgment — a simj^le

KEASON — INFINITY. 291

(must in fact do so), it can never, if we merely hold thereby,
constitute a valid proof of it. We can never logically pass
from the one to the other. Just as in perception, if we
endeavour to separate the contents therein given, and hold
merely with the ideal factor — the me — we can never argu-
mentatively find the not-me. We can never get out of the
subjective circle. But let us only acknowledge the intuitive
character of the apprehensive act in either case — in reason
as in sense — and we have already as indisputable matter of
fact the me and the not-me, the subject and object. The
infinite, no longer regarded as a mere subjective reflection in
the understanding — a mere logical necessity — ^but as intuitive-
ly given in reason, needs and admits of no further proof of
reahty than its being thus given. It is there — a living Pre-
sence, in which alone the finite soul at once apprehends
itself and the ultimate and absolute Being whence it is. So
far from depending on demonstration, it is, in this view, a
fact anterior to all demonstration, and even the very condi-
tion of that logical thought, which in vain seeks to reach it.

And in thus abandoning all claim to demonstration, the .
evidence for the being of a God, so far from being weakened,
is indeed strengthened. For in all our knowledge there is,
and can be, no higher warrant for reality than the grasp of
intuition. What the soul thus holds by immediate presen-

writing out of the conception for which God already stands. The predicate B
(existence as a conception) is already in the subject A. But to predicate exis-
tence as a fact of the subject A, is to pass out of the sphere of the conception
altogether, and, however true in itself, can never be given in the mere concep-
tion. The judgment, in this case, is no longer analytic, but synthetic ; that
is to say, something is affirmed, which the mere exi^lication of the conception
does not yield.

292 THEISM.

tatioii, is, and must be, its most living possession — the
source of all its own elaborated notions, and in comparison
with which these are verily as shadows. And thus, too, it
deserves to be added, the great truth of the existence of God
is only preserved as a truth of religion, encompassed with a
radiance of evidence which only the wilfully blind can fail
to see, yet not mathematically demonstrated, that they who
devoutly seek the light may have gladness and reward in
its discovery.

SECTION IV.

DIFFICULTIES EEGAEDING THE DIVINE
WISDOM AND GOODNESS.

§ IV.— CHAPTER I.

STATEMENT OP DIFFICULTIES, ETC.

We have already noticed certain " difficulties " that directly
meet us in unfolding the theistic argument. In carrying up
our varied trains of induction from the wide province of
nature, we encounter facts, which not only, on the first view,
do not contribute to our argument, but seem to stand in
obvious contradiction to it.

These facts do not meet us in the outset, but only as we
advance. So long as we confine our range of induction to
material phenomena, to the combinations of inorganic matter,
or even of the lower forms of organic existence, there is
nothing that can be said to interrupt the harmonious flow
of the theistic evidence. All is order, unbroken by check or
flaw. There is no room for the conception of imperfection
or evil.

We trace certainly, within the domain of matter, the
signs of what we are apt to call disorder. The planetary sys-
stem, in some of its features, seems to present indications of
disturbance. The frame of the earth has apparently, in past

296 THEISM.

times, been rent and broken up by mighty throes. And
there are instances even now of such material convulsions ;
as when the lightning desolates, or the volcano pours its
fiery doom over surrounding towns and villages, or the earth-
quake engulfs them with sudden terror. But it is only to
us, or because we contemjDlate these things in the light of
life, that such phenomena assume for a moment the appear-
ance of disorder. In themselves — apprehended simply in re-
gard either to their causes or their material results — such a
term has no application to them ; for they are merely appro-
priate issues in the great plan of physical development, where-
by the constant growth of its order and beauty is maintained.

When, however, we pass beyond material arrangements
to those of life in its higher forms, we find phenomena which
in themselves appear dark and contradictory. Pain emerges
as a parallel fact with pleasure in sensation ; death as a
parallel fact with life throughout all its range. The facts of
pain and death are peculiar in this respect, that they appear
to contradict and nullify the very order amid which they
occur : they are evil amid the good. It is this conception
of evil which, in the mere domain of matter, has obviously
no place — which constitutes, in its manifold forms, the grand
difficulty of the Natural Theologian.

In the sphere of animal life, evil is present in such apparent
contradictions as we have now mentioned, and especially in the
direct provision made for the event of these in the existence
of animals of prey. The joy and life of certain animals are
the agony and death of others. This arrangement of nature
seems to present itself as a mal-arrangement.

STATEMENT OF DIFFICULTIES. 297

In the sphere of human life, evil is especially present —
not only in the lower physical forms of pain and death, but,
moreover, in all the forms of sorrow which disturb and vex
the human heart, the multiplied social evils of our race, and,
above all, in the fact of sin, which at once intensifies, and
in a manner comprehends, every other phase of human evil.

These phenomena, therefore, claim our special examina-
tion, in reference to the theistic argument. They seem to
bear with a show of opposing force against it, at least against
its full conclusiveness. Their reality appears to affect par-
ticularly the truth of the Divine wisdom and goodness.
With these attributes, and eminently with the latter, the
fact of evil comes in conflict. It is, we formerly saw, in
immediate opposition to the good in sensation that the evil
first emerges ; but evil, being also in its very conception
disorder, is no less truly opposed to wisdom than to
goodness.

It now remains for us, therefore, to obviate the difiiculties
thence arising to our argument. The attributes of Divine
wisdom and goodness, while suffering under the partial
shadow of such points of darkness, may yet be found, from
a thorough review of the whole subject and field of evidence
before us, to come forth into even a purer and more glorious
lustre than if there had been no shadow to dissipate — no
evil to alleviate.

298 THEISM.

§ IV.— CHAPTER 11.

GENEEAL CONSIDERATIONS.

Before entering on the special examination of the difficul-
ties before us, it may help to clear our way, and throw some
light around it, to draw attention to certain general consi-
derations bearing on the subject.

The first of these arises from the fact, already more than
once insisted upon, that phenomena of evil are truly of. an
exceptional character : they come before us as exceptions to
general order and prevailing good. While, therefore, they
appear formidable difficulties when viewed by themselves, it
is not yet by themselves, but as mere spots of darkness in an
otherwise fair and bright picture, that they can fairly claim
to be regarded. Let them be considered, in the fullest sense,
obstacles in the way of the complete theistic inference — ano-
malies demanding explanation ; they have yet no claim to set
aside that inference, in virtue of their mere existence. An
indefinite array of facts bears witness to the Divine wisdom
and goodness with an accumulating force of evidence which
is irresistible. This evidence is entitled to hold good its

GENEEAL CONSIDEKATIONS. 299

place for what it is worth, notwithstanding that there is a
certain amount of what appears counter-evidence. Let both
go into court, and be judged according to their respective
value ; but it were surely a strange injustice that the mere
presence of certain phenomena appearing to form negative
evidence should be held, per se, to dispose of the whole array
of positive evidence. It were a strange injustice to deny that
any valid inference of corresponding qualities in an artist can
be founded on the general excellence, the harmonious skill,
displayed by his work, because it may contain what may
seem to us imperfections. And yet this is really the injustice
which has been perpetrated, as with a show of superior acute-
ness,* against the inductive argument for the Divine wisdom

* " If the celebrated argument of design is to hold good as evidence in favour,
it must hold equally good as evidence against the wisdom and beneficence of the
Creator; — a startling proposition, and one, we believe, never made before, but one
from which logic has no escape. When you point to the perfection of organisations
as evidence of wisdom, and to their manifold enjoyments as evidence of goodness,
you force the reflective mind to think of the imperfections and the misery so
abundantly displayed. When you take youi- relative good for the absolute good,
you must equally accept your relative evil for the absolute evil. Now this is
shocking ; the mind refuses to accept such a conception, and would be plunged
in despair, did it not learn that Wisdom, Goodness, Evil, are but relative terms,
and pertain to our human finite conditions, not to the Infinite. Yet, if men
will persist in measuring the Infinite according to their finite standard, they
must do so in the one case as in the other. Theologians usuall}^ escape
from the dilemma by saying, when any case of manifest evil is propounded,
'God's ways are inscrutable;' and they are right. But if inscrutable in one
direction, inscrutable in all. We do not understand evil, nor do we under-
stand good ; the finite cannot imderstand the Infinite." — Leader, No. 116,
July 12, 1852.

We present this as a specimen of our most recent antitheistic logic.
The passage, as it proceeds, is not without an air of speciousness, which is
yet, as it appears to us, only derived from a perversion of the assumption
against which it is directed. It is not true, for example, that the Theo-
logian takes the relative good which he finds in nature as equivalent to
absolute good. So far is this from being the case, that the whole question

300 THEISM.

and beneficence. It has been urged, for example, that the
apparent imperfections of nature as much warrant a nega-
tive, as its order a positive, conclusion in reference to the
Divine wisdom. This is imagined to be a peculiar hit of
logic, which completely demolishes the theistic induction !
Yet surely it is impossible to conceive a graver perversion of
logic. For even admitting the fact of such imperfections
in nature as are supposed, which may be entirely disputed,
all that logic can demand is, that such phenomena shall not
be rejected, and held as of no account in the theistic evidence.
In fairness, they must receive a hearing before the conclusion
is pronounced. The presumptions of an opposite character
which they involve must be weighed ; but that certain
apparent anomalies here and there, which, the more they are

as to the theistic significaiice of evil only occurs from the admission that
the good in nature is relative. Were it absolute, or assumed to be absolute,
there would and could be no such question. The fact is, that the argument of
desig-n, according to its only right interpretation, and as abundantly evident
from the whole course of our previous evidence, does not deal with the absolute
in any sense at all. Its sole aim is to verify the theistic idea, as revealed
in nature. It does not, therefore, affect to reach, far less to understand, the
Infinite. It does profess, however, to determine comprehensively according to
their fuU character the theistic contents given in natm-e ; and its conclusion
certainly is that wisdom and goodness are among their number. Looking
with an open glance upon creation, the Theologian has the e\'idence of wis-
dom and goodness forced upon him, and by the laws of his rational consti-
tution he cannot fail to cairy up these attributes of creation to the Creator.
But if you do this, says the sceptic, you are equally bound to carry up to the
same source the opposite attributes of " imperfection and miseiy so abundantly
displayed" in creation. Yes, bound to carry them up in the shape of negative
presumptions — but this is all. And this is really what the Theologian does, and
these negative presumptions are just the difficulties with which he has to deal.
The force of these difficulties may be such as to leave the conclusion of abso-
lute goodness uncertain on the mere sphere of nature, this conclusion being
only perfected in the rational intuition of the Infinite ; but it cannot surely be
maintained to be such as to leave the fact of goodness in the Deity, even on
tliLs sphere, in any degree uncertain.

GENEEAL CONSIDERATIONS. 301.

examined, the less they are seen to be anomalies, must be
allowed to set aside the otherwise imiform testimony of
nature, is too absurdly illogical a pretension to deserve
even the notice we have given it.

Even so as to those more serious aspects of misery which
exist in human life. The very utmost that can be demanded
is, that they be recognised as difficulties in the way of the
complete theistic inference. It is certainly puzzling that the
works of a good Being should be in any respect marred by
unhappiness. Yet the partial unhappiness cannot for a
moment be entitled to set aside the prevailing happiness. On
any fair principle of evidence, we must admit the good for
what it truly is — the rule of nature ; and the evil for what it
no less truly is — only the exception. In this, as it appears to
us, the whole question at this stage is summed up, and we
willingly leave the sceptic on either horn of the dilemma he
may choose ; namely, either to deny that happiness is the
rule of creation (a denial from which his philosophic insou-
ciance would especially shrink), or to admit pro tanto the
validity of the inference founded upon the rule, and to join
us in the search of whatever explanation the exceptions may
admit of

And this leads us to the only other preliminary considera-
tion which seems to demand attention. In reviewing the
phenomena of creation, we are to bear in mind that we only
see part of a great plan in progress. We cannot, in the
nature of the case, see more. But if we could see the whole
plan in its extended development, many things that now
seem to us exceptional and contradictory might lose this

302 THEISM.

character altogether, and even expand into special means of
advance in the ever-enlarging display of the Divine benefi-
cence. The mystery which everywhere encompasses our finite
sphere of observation, may only conceal from ns the wisdom
and the goodness that are really present in many phenomena
where we cannot even trace them. The limitation of our
faculties is thus recognised as in some manner explanatory
of the difiiculties that meet us in regard to our subject; and
it is quite validly so held in a general sense. It has been
urged, indeed, in the same hostile spirit of reasoning,
already noticed, that if the limitation of our faculties is to
be called into account so far, it must be admitted much
farther. It ought truly to deter us from pronouncing
any theistic judgment at all as to creation — an assertion
which is really tantamount to saying that we ought to reject
a fact because we are not able to perceive all the relations of
that fact. We are not to admit that God is good, because
we cannot understand the whole nature and bearing of His
goodness. We are to refuse to believe what we see and know,
because there are certain things we do not see and cannot
know. The finite cannot understand the infinite ; therefore
it must pause in mere dumb perplexity, and not say any-
thing, nor believe anything. Reason instinctively recoils from
such an assertion. It at once rejects such a mere syllogistic
cavil. With a higher and truer logic, it accepts the good,
although it may not comprehend all its modes of operation.
Looking out from the veil which covers its limited vision,
it perceives and acknowledges the lustre of beneficence all
around it, and it only pauses where shadows seem to cover

GENEEAL CONSIDERATIONS. 303

that lustre. We do not deny the light of the sun because
shadows here and there intercept that light : nay, there are
spots, we know, in the very solar brightness itself ; but this
does not prevent us day by day, as we pass into its presence,
confessing the lustre of beauty and happiness that it sheds
about our path.

We rightly allow, therefore, the theistic inference on its
positive side, while we pause before those negative facts that
force themselves upon us. We validly pause in the one case,
and not in the other, on the broad ground that, in the
one case, the immediate conclusion is correspondent to
our rational instincts, and in the other it is repellent to
those instincts. Truly speaking, it is only in the latter
case that the region of ignorance and mystery begins. It is
only the evil that is utterly unintelligible. It is only in
reference to the evil that the limitation of our faculties is
displayed in absolute helplessness. Eightly, therefore, on
every principle of reason, we call in this limitation of our
faculties as demanding a suspense of judgment in regard to
the evil, and not in regard to the good. In the one case
reason is satisfied : it rests in the good, as sympathetic with
it, and intelligible to it. From the evil, on the contrary, it
retreats, as utterly perplexing ; and we say, in such a case,
with a justice which commends itself to every heart, that if
we knew more — if our faculties were more competent — we
might understand what is now so dark. ' If our vision were
enlarged, we might perceive that what seems so anomalous
and evil is not really so. For we are but the creatures of a
day ; and those darkened characters which our feeble sight

304 THEISM.

cannot read, may yet, to a higher sight, be luminous with
Divine light. The mystery which we cannot explain, may
disappear on a wider horizon of knowledge. Could we see
the end from the beginning, it may be best as it is, after all.
The complications which now yield us no meaning, or one
at which we only gaze with awe, may expand into issues of
beneficence that will gladden the angels, when the great
scheme is complete, and the glory of final victory is poured
backwards through all its darkened perplexities and most
deeply-lying shadows.

PHYSICAL PAIN AND DEATH. 305

§ lY.— CHAPTER III.

SPECIAL EXAMINATION OF DIFFICULTIES— PHYSICAL PAIN
AND DEATH.

We have already seen what are the first difficulties which
meet us in the course of our theistic induction. In the region
of sentient existence, which brings us into the presence of
Divine Goodness, we meet, in immediate connection with
the phenomena of pleasure, the phenomena of pain ; and
death we find ceaselessly alternating with life. In examin-
ing these difficulties, we shall regard them in their widest
manifestation throughout the sphere of animal being. Any
special reference that they may have to man will be suffi-
ciently considered under those higher forms of evil that
peculiarly belong to him.

The first thing to be said of physical pain is what we have
already urged.* The issue of the sensitive frame, according
to its regular and harmonious action, is pleasure. In health
and vigour— or, in other words, when not interfered with— it
gives forth pleasure. There is no part of the system whose

* See p. 191-193.

306 THEISM.

direct appointed action is pain. Pain, in short, is not the
production of the sentient organism in the same sense as
pleasure is. It is something which attacks the organism,
or is superinduced upon it ; not something which springs
directly and necessarily out of it. It is the exception —
pleasure is the rule.

This is a truly important consideration, which no amount
of ingenious sophistry can altogether turn aside. Its import-
ance may be recognised from the reflection, that if the sen-
sitive organism had been quite diff'erently constituted, so
that its natural evolution, its very growth and ordinary
action, had been painful, and pleasure been merely its acci-
dent, as pain now is — we do not see, in such a case, how
the Divine wisdom and benevolence could have been vin-
dicated. Imperfection and malevolence would then cer-
tainly have appeared the more appropriate inference from
nature. Or even had the relation of the two facts, although
not exactly inverted, been altered, so that pain asserted
itself to be as much a fact in sensitive life as pleasure — to
arise as immediately out of its constitution — the theistic
inference would have been thereby so obscured as to have
become powerless for conviction or consolation. Tlie fact
that, according to undeniable design, and equally undeniable
reality, pleasure is the normal expression of sensation, while
pain is merely its liability, is, therefore, of the greatest
significance for our subject, and on no account to be lost
sight of.

But, it will be said, could not this liability have been
averted ? Could not God have so constituted the sensitive

PHYSICAL PAIN AND DEATH. 307

organism tliat it sliould never have issued in pain — that its
free harmonious action should not only have been pleasure,
but that it should never have been interfered with ? Might
not the sensitive instrument have been so constructed that
it should not only send forth, as it does, the music of happi-
ness, but that the discord of pain should never have pro-
ceeded from it ? Would not the power, wisdom, and good-
ness of God have been thus unimpeachably conspicuous ?
Now, of course, it is undeniable that, if God had so willed,
there would have been no pain in the world ; but we are by
no means so sure of the conclusion implied in this. A very
different conclusion, indeed, seems quite as likely. For is it
not the very same condition on which pain is contingent that
yields pleasure in so much abundance ? Is it not the very
same nervous susceptibility which gives forth, as its normal
play, the sense of enjoyment — that gives forth, as its abnor-
mal play, the sense of pain ? Is it not the very same
medium which overflows with gladness that may be even
invaded to madness ? Supposing the organism had been
made incapable of pain, how do we know that it would
have retained its capacity of pleasure ? Supposing it had
been so constituted as not to have absolutely excluded
the force of disease, how do we know that it could have
owned the spring or felt the joy of health? We put the
question thus, because we really do not know, and can-
not know. We may, perhaps, imagine the possibility of
a susceptibility to pleasure, without a corresponding sus-
ceptibility to pain ; but, so far as we can see, they are inse-
parable. A wholly difierent constitution, placed in wholly

308 THEISM.

different circumstances, might have possessed the one with-
out the other. But this is an utterly idle question for us
to entertain ; for, after all (for aught we can tell), such a
constitution, in such circumstances, might not have been
nearly so good as the present. We cannot say it would.
Respecting a matter altogether beyond the sphere of our
knowledge, we have no means of reaching a conclusion.
Every such conjecture, therefore, is entirely out of place.
Looking at the fact of things, the only conclusion w^e can
form on the subject is, that susceptibility to pleasure and
susceptibility to pain are correlative and proportional. The
more highly refined and exalted the organism, and the more
exquisite its issues of pleasure, the more exquisite also is its
liability to suffering. Yet, as we formerly saw, and as is
highly significant in the actual arrangements of creation,
the higher and more richly susceptible the organisms, the
more carefully defended are they. The more life becomes
intensified in nobler creations, the more carefully is its freight
of happiness secured against spoliation, if, when it is spoiled,
there be a more utter and painful waste.

Upon the whole, then, it seems that physical pain,
while a mere liability of the nervous tissue, whose regu-
lar and healthful action is pleasure, is yet apparently an
inherent liability of the same, — so that, without the con-
tingency of pain, we could not have had the fact of
pleasure ; and, apart from this fact, we would have been
without the inference of the Divine goodness ; for this infer-
ence only rests on the presence of happiness in the creation
as its foundation. It is only within the sphere of sensitive

PHYSICAL PAIN AND DEATH. 309

enjoyment that the light of creative love dawns upon us ;
and if it be within this sphere also that a slight darkness
first tinges our inductive horizon, it is yet surely better to
have the light with the faint darkness than no light at all.

We may further advert, even in this lower sphere, to the
strange relation of affinity between pleasure and pain. So
inlaid is the former in the sensitive organism as its appro-
priate condition, that while that organism cannot resist the
contact of the latter, it yet often turns it into a mean of
higher pleasure. The temporary suffering is transmuted
into a sweeter joy. There is, in truth, a general character
of balance and alternation in the sensitive frame. Its life is
a continual fluctuation; and if the nervous chords were never
painfully afiected, we do not know how they might lose in
tone and freshness. Or, if this be saying too much, it is
yet undeniable that sensitive enjoyment is dependent upon
an interchange of affection more and less pleasurable — a suc-
cession of more easy and less easy experiences ; and, under
this capacity of reaction, even the invading pain, as we
have said, becomes the means of higher pleasure ; and the
Divine wisdom and goodness are beheld asserting themselves
by the very presence of apparent disorder and evil.

The fact of death, in the general animal kingdom, will be
foimd still more readily than that of pain to yield a consistent
theistic interpretation. As the goodness of God is only mani-
fest in the display of happy sentient existence, it is obvious
that this goodness will be more manifest the more it is be-
held communicating life and happiness. The more multiplied
and diversified sentient being, the more abundant the evi-

310 THEISM.

dence of Divine beneficence. Every fresh life, every new
birth of breathing and beautiful organisation, is a renewed
testimony to the Divine fulness and love.

It is clear, then, that if there had been no such thing as
death in the animal creation, this enjoyment could only have
been imparted within a comparatively very limited extent.
Animal fecundity must have been restrained within compara-
tively infinitesimal bounds, and animal life consequently
have been deficient in the copiousness, variety, and beauty
of happiness which it now exliibits. There could have been
in such a case no succession of races, no giving place of
inferior to higher and more complex organisms, and there-
fore no such extended display of Divine wisdom as geology
reveals. Numerous creatures, who have lived their brief day
of joy, could never have been. In the absence, then, of the
apparent exception to the Divine wisdom and goodness, we
could not have had the same abundant manifestations of these
attributes, which seems very much tantamount to a satisfac-
tory proof that the apparent is not a real exception. That
which seems at first to form an obstacle in the way of the
theistic inference, is found to issue in a wider and more
extended basis for it. As we look at the mere fact of death
by itself, it seems for a moment as if there were a flaw in
the all- wise and beneficent arrangements of the world ; but,
as we look a little more steadily, we see how, in the animal
as in the vegetable kingdom, life springs from death ; how
the extinction of one generation, or it may be race, is the
rise of others, with equal and perhaps more exalted powers
of enjoyment. Death, in this simply organic view, is so far

PHYSICAL PAIN AND DEATH. 311

from approving itself an irregularity, or in any true sense
an evil, that it is the obvious condition of organic growth
and progress altogether. It is the simple mode by which
life continues and advances through its endless phases,
taking to itself from every apparent pause a richer strength,
and rising from every apparent fall into finer and nobler
forms. The Divine wisdom, therefore, may be said to be
illustrated instead of obscured by its contemplation, and the
Divine beneficence to shine with a fuller and brighter light
in its presence.

If we add to these considerations the fact that throughout
the brute creation death is, in whatever form, a destiny
towards which it blindly tends, and which, for the most
part, overtakes it with a swift decision, which gives but a
minimum of pain, we will have still greater reason to rest
in such a conclusion. Even in the article of death, the brute
does not know that it is dying, or at least has no contem-
plative realisation of the fact, which is what gives all its
bitterness to death in man's special case. The life which
has sported itself in joyful hours, or days, or years, expires
in the brief pang of a moment. Here, as everywhere, the
measure of pain is found to be strictly economised, while
the measure of life and its enjoyments is poured forth with
a profuse hand.

Similar considerations serve to obviate the special diffi-
culty which has been felt to arise from the system of prey
in the animal creation. If that system had not existed, it is
plain that an immense restraint comparatively must have
been laid on animal fecundity and enjoyment. If some ani-

312 THEISM.

mals had not been destined to live on others, many animals
could never have lived at all. Merely vegetable produce
could not have sustained animal life in anything like its
present fulness and diversity. A change in this one respect
would have implied a change in the whole existing relations
of the vegetable and animal kingdoms, which we have no
reason to suppose would have been a better arrangement,
while even such a change could not have obviated the
destruction of certain animals by others. For the very
movements of the larger animals carry with them death to
insect myriads. The ox crushes them with its feet as it
pastures, and in many forms devours them within the folds
of the green leaf. While there is something, therefore, in
the system of prey, in certain of its manifestations, regarded
by themselves, which seems to shock our sense of the Divine
goodness, when we enlarge our view we perceive that these
manifestations are only to some extent special modes of a
general law of destruction, which in other forms we do not
feel to be harsh and repellent; and that, even if they repelled
us more than they do, they are yet the condition of that
extended and overflowing presence of life which we every-
where behold. The question, indeed, essentially comes to
be of this kind, whether the display of goodness w^ould have
been less affected by the comparatively limited presence of
life, than by the special amount of pain involved in the sys-
tem of prey ? The question is one that may be fairly left to
the settlement which nature has given of it.

And all this receives confirmation from special features
in the system of prey which it is w^ell not to overlook ; from

SPECIAL EXAMINATION OF DIFFICULTIES. 313

the fact, for example, that the predatory animal kills before
it devours, and especially from the fact that it commonly
seizes by instinct on the most vital part, where death is
most suddenly and easily inflicted.

We may then fairly conclude, upon the whole, that the cir-
cumstance of organic extinction does not in any degree aff'ect
the inference of the Divine wisdom and goodness. It is rather
a means towards their further and grander display. There
is, as it were, a partial hiding of the Divine character in the
shadow of death thrown upon the picture, but it is only for
the purpose of opening up behind the partial shadow a more
extended and brighter display of that character, a more
abundant and richer manifestation of it.

314 THEISM.

§ lY.—CHAPTEK IV.

SPECIAL EXAMINATION CONTINUED — SOEEOW.

It is, however, in the sphere of human life that evil appears
in its most marked and difficult forms. It is only here,
indeed, that evil, in the peculiar and emphatic sense in which
we commonly use the term, is found at all. It is here that
it assumes at once a malignity which defies palliation, and a
darkness which is still profound when we have thrown upon
it the clearest light which nature or even revelation supplies.
This mystery of evil in humanity from the first assumes
all its special hatefulness and darkness from the element
of moral corruption which mingles in it, and which, in
all its forms, it more or less indicates. If it were not
this moral element, there would remain nothing peculiar,
save its dignity, in human evil. It is the presence of a
deeper shadow lying within the varied shades which chequer
human life, that alone gives to them all their special mourn-
fulness, and constitutes that master-problem before which
speculation retires baffled, and the heart stands in awe. It
is important now to bring this into view, because, while we

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SOEEOW. 315

trust to be able to show various considerations tending to
mitigate the common ills of our race, and even to transmute
them into good, we would yet have it to be seen, from the
outset, that these ills — deriving as they do their worst hue
from that deeper evil which lies behind — at the same time
find in it their highest explanation. The fact of sin, if it inten-
sifies the picture of human suff'ering, at the same time serves
to account for it. The lesser, and, as it were, accessory evils,
become intelligible in the greater. While striving to carry
the light of special explanation along with us, it is, accord-
ingly, of some consequence to see that, in this darker difii-
culty of sin, all the lower difiiculties finally merge. To it
they are easily pushed back. In this grand enigma all other
enigmas of human life gather up and concentrate themselves.
If the problem, therefore, acquires only a more inexplicable
character in the end, it is yet reduced to a single point, from
the very intensity of whose mystery a clearer explanation
falls upon its lower levels.

Under what is commonly meant by sorrow in the widest
sense, we may sum up the difi'erent expressions of human evil.
How pervading a presence sorrow is, it is needless to say.
There is no heart which it has not touched, there is no life
which it has not darkened. In one form or another it is all
around us, and its shadow traces all earthly joy. Its pre-
sence is not only to be measured by its outward manifesta-
tion ; it lies deep in the soul of many whose brow may yet
be clear. It cuts into many a heart which gives no sign of
bleeding. Of a certain great man,* who has written many

* Goethe.

316 THEISM.

fine thino's about sorrow, it is said that, when he lost his
son, no one could read in his face any sign of peculiar
emotion ; but it was observed that he " worked harder than
ever/' In this way he sought to stay the bursting fountain
of bereaved feeling ; and so free and commanding, and, it may
be added withal, so cold a nature, no doubt succeeded in his
attempt. Yet there are also those who, though they never
any more show it, mourn inwardly with a keenness only the
more intense that it lacerates in secret. There are those
who bear their sorrow, a secret presence of unrest only the
more bitter that it finds no expression, and seeks no sym-
pathy. It lurks behind many a smile, and covers itself over
with frequent brightness.

Now it is certainly at first a very perplexing question why
it should be so — why human life should be thus largely
traced and embittered by sorrow. This life is no doubt also
full of joy, — more full of joy, we must hold, after all, than
sorrow. And upon this fact of enjoyment, in the emotional
as in the lower sensational sphere — a fact so difiused and
pervading as to be from its very nature less susceptible of
analysis and exliibition than the contrary fact — we based
our theistic inference. Yet it must be admitted that we
have here, in this widespread reality of sorrow, a peculiar
difficulty in the way of that inference.

This difficulty we might to some extent obviate, on the
same grounds as those set forth in the previous chajDter. It
is the same emotional susceptibility which renders us at
once capable of joy and of sorrow. The same source of
feeling in the breasts of parents, which finds such gratifica-

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SOKKOW. 317

tion in tlie health and prosperity of their children, over-
flows with such bitterness for their suffering or death ; the
same capacity which makes success, or honour, or fame, so
pleasurable, makes also misfortune, contempt, or disgrace so
grievous. If we wanted the capacity of sorrow, we do not
know that we could have the capacity of joy. But certainly,
this subjective contingency of pain and pleasure, of sorrow
and joy, does not explain in either case the actual amount
of the evil or negative element. We are led, therefore,
to seek for some higher means of explanation as to the
prevalence of suffering in human life. The following consi-
derations may serve to throw some measure of light upon
the subject.

Man comes into the world a being of mixed passions and
affections. The infant that smiles so placidly on its mother's
breast contains in it, with the capacity of indefinite spiritual
improvement, the seeds of selfish development, which would
grow, if unhindered, into all inordinate forms of lust and
unhappiness. Human life, therefore, needs to be beset with
agencies fitted to check the one and to stimulate the other.
And of all these agencies, suffering is undoubtedly one of the
most effectual, one of the most powerful for the promotion
of moral culture. It is true that men may suffer much, and
yet be little bettered — nay, that suffering, in its baser and
more ordinary forms, may tend to nurture a soul in wicked-
ness rather than in goodness ; but it is nevertheless a
truth of the most undeniable and manifest character, that
sorrow, in all its higher forms, is a Divine discipline of the
most precious and signally beneficial kind. It brings the

318 THEISM.

soul into contact with ennobling influences from a higher
region of spiritual life than surrounds it here. It awakens
in it more directly than anything else the consciousness of
the infinite, and calls forth in it more energetically than
anything else that quick sympathy with the lofty and the
pure, and that ardent aspiration after the good, which are
the most constant and unfailing springs of happiness on
earth. The weeping of the night is thus turned into the
joy of the morning. The soul that may have lain under the
deepest shadow, rises to stronger and more beautiful altitudes
of virtue. Heaven has been about it in its sorrow, and it
comes forth brighter from its converse with darkness, and
better and happier from its dwelling in the "house of
mourning.'' Faith guides it henceforth with a firmer step,
and Hope cheers it by a steadier light, and Love sustains it
with a more enduring fervour. Patience only grows in the
valley of suffering, and humility is only purified by the fire
of trial*

Nor does sorrow only lift the soul into a higher region
of spiritual excellence for its o^vn strengthening and im-
provement, but it arouses as nothing else does its activities
for the good of others. It not only opens up heaven to us,
but it sheds a new interest upon earth, and a glory falls
from under its veil on the lowliest lot of man. All life
becomes sacred to it — all men are brethren to its purged

* The sorrow spoken of is, of course, in its highest sense, that spiritual exal-
tation of passion which is of the character of religion. Sorrow, apart from
any element of religion, is rather a bankruptcy of the passion than any true
phase of it— what we call despair. Of this kind is that " sorrow of the world
that worketh death."

SPECIAL EXAMINATION— SORROW. 319

and softened vision. It is the rich fountain that feeds in us
the well of sympathy. It is the strong passion that kindles
in us the holy rage of philanthropy. Nature assumes a
lovelier aspect, and is luminous with a diviner meaning, to the
gaze of sorrow. It is— strange as it may be— the mirrox in
which man sees most deeply into truth and beauty in all their
relations; so that whatever may be the perplexity of its pre-
sence in human life, regarded from a mere intellectual point of
view, it is practically so great and comprehensive an agency
of good, operating withal so subtly and silently in numerous
hearts, that humanity has cause to bless its presence and
be grateful for its work. The man who knows not its
consecrating power is a loser in far more respects than he
can possibly be a gainer. He may be free from its painful
lessons, but he misses therewith the wisdom and the well-
being that only comes from such lessons.

" He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend :
Eternity mourns that. 'Tis an ill cure
For life's worst ills to have no time to feel them.
Where sorrow's held intrusive, and turned out,
There wisdom will not enter, nor true power.
Nor aught that dig-nifies humanity." *

The value of sorrow, as a beneficial element of spiritual
discipline in human life, it is interesting to remark, has
received very special and emphatic recognition in our
modern literature. The comprehensive types of ethical
truth which Christianity first revealed would now seem to
be passing into freer literary currency, and asserting a
more pervading power. The worth and beauty of earnest-

* Taylor's Philip van Artevelde.

K

320 THEISM.

ness, sympathy, and patience — the scorn of the false, and the
love of the honest and brave — the many forms of manly and
womanly excellence which only spring in their full vigour
from "the divine depths of sorrow'' — meet us everywhere in
the ideal pictures of the novelist and the impassioned strain
of the poet. Looking on life with a nobler or at least more
comprehensive spiritual insight than heretofore, literature
does homage to the blessed function of sorrow ; and while it
gathers to itself the strengi:h which comes from it, labours
with a rare devotion to remedy all its baser sources, and to
stanch its most bleeding wounds.

We are of course aware, in all that we have been saying,
that the mere notion of such a disciplinary or remedial
function as is exercised by suffering, suggests a ready answer
to the course of argument we have rested on it. Why was
man, it may be asked, so constituted as to need all this dis-
cipline ? Is not this the real point with which the theistic
argument requires to deal — the fact of man being found so
morally imperfect as to need so largely as he does the hard
and bitter education of sorrow? This obviously points in the
last relation to that deeper aspect of our subject that awaits
us ; yet a few remarks seem here to deserve attention.

All spiritual life, in its very conception, implies an educa-
tion or discipline. Virtue only realises its meaning in trial.
It is no doubt true that we can conceive a discipline merely
from one degree of good to another — ^that we can conceive
spiritual life flourishing in its most exalted forms without
any background of evil whereon to reflect its excellence ;
yet it must be also admitted that in the very fact of trial

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SOREOW. 321

there lies the possibility of failure — of a sinking below the
good, as well as a rising to higher measures of it. In the
simple fact of moral action there lies the contingency of
wrong action, and of all that moral imperfection that
actually exists in the world.

Nay, it is not to be denied (to take a further view of the
subject, which must yet be very cautiously ventured on)
that even the realisation of the evil — the possibility of failure
become a fact — bears in it something of good of which we
cannot otherwise very well conceive. The very presence of
moral evil calls forth peculiar phases of virtue — a richer and
more various fulness of moral excellence. We are far from
saying that this serves in the remotest degree to explain the
evil. No view could be further from our whole mode of
thought than this, which strikes its root deep in an abyss of
pantheism. We are not now dealing with the final explana-
tion of the fact, only pointing out that it is not utterly
unassociated with good. Good even seems to spring from
it. The virtue which is a victory over evil, a hard-earned
triumph against foes that have lain in wait for it all along
its path, seems a nobler thing than the virtue which has
never been so proved. From the very bitterness of the cul-
ture springs the precious ripeness of the fruit. This does
not certainly explain the evil, but it is at once significant
and cheering to find that its presence thus calls forth a more
enduring and exalted good.

322 THEISM.

§ IV.— CHAPTEE V.

SPECIAL EXAMINATION CONTINUED — SOCIAL EVILS.

The survey of human life, in its social aspects — in its aggre-
gate character of communities and nations — presents perhaps
more to perplex the contemplative mind than any other
view of it. The disorders which meet us in such a survey
are so numerous, and many of them of such appalling magni-
tude, that even the most devout have been sometimes led to
ask themselves whether, after all, human history can be con-
sidered as a development of Divine wisdom and goodness.
The evils of oppression, of miserable poverty, of social degra-
dation in all its shapes, so cover with their dark shadows the
historical picture, that the epical and beneficent lights of it
seem often entirely obscured. And even at this better and
brighter stage of the world's progress, and in such a land as
our own, where the higher social influences may be supposed
working as actively at least as anywhere else, how much is
there to sadden and bewilder the view ! To any man in whom
the faculties of heart and soul are full, who has a mind to see,
and a bosom to be touched with the miseries around him,

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SOCIAL EVILS. 323

and upon whom lias come even some dim sense of tlie infi-
nite capacities and issues of all human life, it is certainly a
most mournful and perplexing contemplation, that, with ad-
vancing civilisation, and such vast and ever-strengthening
resources of science and art and wealth, there should remain
so black and fearful a foil to the brightness, — that by the
side of all this glittering increase there should harbour
such dreadful sickening masses of human deterioration
and suffering.

Sad as are the social evils which thus force themselves
upon us, whether in the view of the past or the present, a
few considerations will perhaps serve — so far as our subject
is concerned — to obviate the difficulties that may be felt to
arise from them.

And first of all, we must not overlook the conviction
which, shaken as it may be in certain moods, never fails to
return to the contemplative mind, that, under whatever
appearances to the contrary, the collective life of mankind in
history yet asserts itself to be " an immutable moral order,
constituted by Divine wisdom."* The assui'ance "that there
is an eternal order in the government of the world, to which
all might and power are to become, and do become, subser-
vient ; that truth, justice, wisdom, and moderation, are sure
to triumph "t — this assurance, which is apt to falter while
the gaze dwells on the mere imperfections of the picture,
comes back with a clear force on its more intelligent survey.
Divine wisdom and goodness are recognised as governing the
world, and as drawing forth from all its disorders and mise-

* Bunsen's Hippohjtus and His Age (Aphorisms), ii. 3. + Ibid., p. 5.

324 THEISM.

ries, hopeless as they may sometimes seem, mighty and har-
monious issues of happiness. This is not a conclusion merely
imported from Christian teaching, and held as a matter of
faith, however Christianity may have shed illumination on
it ; but it is really a conclusion, upon the whole, vindi-
cating itself upon the facts of the case, and becoming more
clear as these facts develop themselves to the historical
student.

But not only does the theistic inference thus assert itself
even in the face of the difficulties that beset it ; these difficul-
ties are found on examination somewhat to clear away. It is
felt especially, and from the very lowest point of view, that the
w^orst of the social evils from which man has suffered in the
past, or still suffers, are not in any sense to be regarded as a
part of the Divine constitution of the world, but really in-
fringements thereof, taking their rise in the invasion of that
constitution by man's impious selfishness. The misrule, and
the servile and unhappy bondage of mind and body, of which
so many are the victims, are felt to arise, not from the Divine
appointment, but from the direct violation and contempt of
it. This view, if it does not liberate us from the problem,
yet throws it back here also upon that last aspect of it,
whose consideration awaits us. The question comes to be
one not regarding the consequent evils, fearful as they may
be, but regarding the primary evil in which they originate —
regarding, in short, the fact or possibility of man's selfishness
opposing itself to the Divine order. Here, as elsewhere, this
becomes the ultimate and comprehensive difficulty into which
the others run up, and in which they find their explanation.

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SOCIAL EVILS. 325

It is further to be remembered, that many of the pheno-
mena of social life, which, in their aggravated form, must be
regarded as evils, are merely the negative side of that general
condition upon which the whole advance, and even the very
existence, of civilisation depend. The inequality of social
advantage, and the consequently partial distribution of mate-
rial and intellectual good, even to the extreme disproportion
we observe in such a country as our own, are unquestionably,
in their spring, the mere results of that inequality of endow-
ment, without which we cannot conceive human improve-
ment to proceed at all. Not that we would be supposed to
imply that any national life is to be considered as furnishing
an example of the necessary, or, in other words, divinely
constituted relations of poverty and wealth. Far from it.
It were, we apprehend, a poor faith that did not cherish
some higher solution of the social problem than has yet been
anywhere exemplified. The existing extremes of social
wretchedness and social grandeur are certainly not the ap-
pointments of Divine order, but the disarrangements of
human selfishness. And it is only such a faith that could
sustain the philanthropist in his labour of earnestness, or his
hopes of a higher future of national well-being. Yet that a
certain inequality of social condition, directly springing from
inequality of personal endowment, is the law of human pro-
gress, and therefore the appointment of Divine wisdom, is
not to be doubted ; and while we contemplate the serious evils
that have taken indirectly their rise in this, we are equally
bound to regard the general advancement, the vastly increas-
ing social well-being, that, upon the whole, have flowed from

326 THEISM.

it. Social equality — which, as the presumed security against
oppression and poverty, and all the characteristic ills of civil-
isation, has been the lauded dream of political enthusiasts —
is not only no part of the Divine constitution of the world,
but we have no reason to suppose that it would fulfil the
ends of " political justice'' and happiness that have been attri-
buted to it ; we have every reason, indeed, to believe the
contrary.*

Here, therefore, it will be seen that the question comes to
be really one as to the wisdom and goodness shown in the
general plan of such a world as ours at all, — a world whose
essential character is that of development. For inequality
would seem to be the condition of development ; while, again,
the evils we speak of are obviously contingent upon this
inequality. And in this point of view, so far as we are cap-
able in any degree of rising to it, it will perhaps be admitted
that progress, with all its attendant evils, is yet a better and
nobler thing than anything else we can well imagine.*!*

*■ All this bearing of oui- subject, upon which we touch very incidentall}', is
discussed with fulness, and at the same time admirable clearness and calnniess,
in Archbishop Sumner's Treatise, which received one of the prizes when the
subject was previously prescribed in 1814 (vol. ii, pp. 40, 118). Here, as through-
out, objections which peculiarly deserved attention then, no longer need any
special treatment.

t It might no doubt be asked, Could we not have had the advantage of de-
velopment without the disadvantage ? To which we can only reply, that it
was no doubt possible that human history might have been a development of
good throughout ; had man not sinned, we have reason to believe it would have
been so ; yet, in the mere fact of moral development, e\dl is contingent, and,
consistently with the nature of that development, could not have been abso-
lutely excluded. Here, equally as in the individual, the possibility of disorder
lies in the very character of the life to be trained and developed. And here,
therefore, again we see, as everywhere in this region, that the question is
thrown back upon this ultimate mystery.

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SOCIAL EVILS. 327

And while we are thus, by enlarging our view, enabled to
see in many of the phenomena of social evil merely the con-
tingent results of that general plan of progress, by which the
world is upon the whole advancing in wisdom and hap-
piness, it is still further to be considered, that beneath the
aggregate darkness of some of these phenomena there is
often found much individual happiness. True also, we are
apt, from familiarity with such phenomena, to underrate the
fearful amount of actual suffering which they represent. Yet,
upon the whole, the balance lies on the other side. There is
such a powerfully elastic spring of happiness in the human
heart, that its presence, even in intense forms, is not to be
denied under the darkest oppression and the most utter
poverty. Even among those who live under systems of the
crudest and most godless injustice, there may be found circu-
lating the free flow of exalted and joyous sentiment. In the
miserable cabin of many a poor African there may be heard the
voice of melody ; and pure affection and simple piety may
gladden many an otherwise dark and comfortless home. The
soul may be emancipated while the body is enslaved, and
sunshine may cheer the heart while ungrateful toil wearies
the bones. Happiness, the sweetest and least interrupted on
earth, may certainly belong to the lot of righteous poverty;
and even in circumstances the least favourable, it is consola-
tory to reflect that happmess is not bound by the impious
devices of tyrannic power — that it can find a nest for itself
even where industrial misrule or lawless despotism may have
laboured most zealously to extinguish it.

And, finally, the light of a higher explanation is beheld

328 THEISM.

breaking upon us from the future, as, with the growth of
human improvement, the " increasing purpose '' of Benefi-
cence becomes more manifestly stamped on all the civil relar
tions of the world, and " a purer order and diviner laws ''
are even now begmning to bind into a nobler life its multi-
plied combinations. As the invasions of human selfishness
are driven back before the progress of Christian enlighten-
ment, the Divine plan of infinite wisdom and goodness will
be seen more visibly revealed in history, and more obviously
expressed in society.

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SIN. 329

§ lY.— CHAPTEE VI.

SPECIAL EXAMINATION CONTINUED — SIN.

The considerations presented in the foregoing chapters serve,
we apprehend, somewhat to obviate special difficulties regard-
ing the wisdom and goodness of God. The various forms
of evil which meet us as apparently formidable obstacles in
the way of the theistic inference, are found, on examination, to
be at least by no means so formidable as at first they appear.
At the very worst, they do not exhibit themselves as unmixed
evils. They bear, every one of them, some compensatory
significance of an important kind. On the general platform
of animal life, and in reference to the most comprehensive
phenomena of evil which there occur, this compensatory
character is so prominent, and enters so directly into the in-
tended constitution of things, that it seems greatly to remove
the element of difficulty which superficially is felt to exist.
Pam, while it shows itself to be contingently related to
pleasure in the very nature of the sensitive organism — to be
a liability springing out of the very fact of the good — appears
reduced to its minimum throughout the lower brute crea-

Y

330 THEISM.

tion ; while oro;anic extinction is seen to be a mere transi-
tion to higher and more abundant modes of life, in the wide
and ever-expanding diversity of which the wisdom and good-
ness of the Deity are ever more truly and conspicuously
displayed.

The same compensatory character, whereby a higher good
is still developed from the partial evil, is found to mark
the difficulties which occur in the sphere of human life,
although manifestly it is no longer, in this sphere, so
adequate for explanation. Here, while suffering is no less
clearly seen to serve purposes of good, there is yet very
clearly left a residuum of difficulty unexplained. The bene-
ficent use of sorrow is indeed apparent, and thoroughly satis-
factory as to its existence, proceeding on the fact that disci-
pline is needed to purify and exalt human life ; but the ques-
tion at once presses itself. Why this disciplinary necessity?
what explanation does it admit of ?

We readily admit, therefore, that while, by the light of
enlarged and impartial inquiry, we are enabled to see good
everywhere in the evil, and so far to obviate the difficulties
which arise from the latter regarding the Divine wisdom
and goodness, we do not, by such considerations, remove the
difficulties. The darkness clears away a little as we gaze
steadily into it, and make ourselves familiar with it, but it
is still there. The light has penetrated, but not dispersed
it. It is somewhat broken up and driven back, but it
only concentrates itself more deeply — in an aspect of more in-
tense enigma — on the further point to which it has retreated.

Following this plan, however, of carrying up the different

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SIN. 331

forms of evil whicli meet us in human life to their true
source, we are enabled to see clearly the final amount of
difficulty with which the theistic argument has to deal. If
we fail to give an adequate explanation of the lower evils,
it is only because they imj^ly a further element of moral evil
which arrests us. Bringing fully into view this difficulty,
and holding it in all its inexplicable magnitude before us,
it serves, in its very intensity, to cast a full meaning on the
dependent perplexities. In this comprehending evil of sin,
all the lower phenomena of evil in human life find their
satisfactory explanation.

This higher view of the subject is one from which our
older theistic literature has, for the most part, shrunk. It
has aimed to bring out the compensatory significance of all
suffering, and to show how largely good is everywhere sub-
served by evil ; but the explanatory meaning which suffering
everywhere assumes in the view of sin, has not been clearly
apprehended by it. Sin has apparently been regarded as
something beyond the sphere of its observation : and, holding
this fact out of sight, it is not to be wondered at that an air
of unsatisfactoriness should attach to its best endeavours*
to resolve those phenomena of suffering of which we have
been speaking.

On the other hand, by bringing into view the fact of sin, if
the problem in the end be only deepened, it is yet simplified.
The mind is left to rest on a single point of darkness, whose
apprehension leaves all the different phenomena of human
suffering at least fully intelligible. For when we consider

* See Paley's JVat. TheoL, chap. xxvi. Brown's Lectures, led. 94.

332 THEISM.

the fact of sin, it no longer remains wonderful that there
should be suffering. The true marvel would have l)een, if,
with the presence of sin, there had not been suffering. For
a moral instinct of the most direct and irresistible character
assures us that the latter is everywhere the inevitable con-
sequence of the former — that the two are bound together,
and essentially coexistent, in the nature of the case. Be-
cause man is a sinner, he is a sufferer. It is sin that smites
him with pain, and wounds him with sorrow. It is sin
which darkens life for him, and embitters death. When we
seize, therefore, this fact of sin, the mystery of suffering
disappears within it.

Especially is this the case when we apprehend the fact of
sin in clear connection with that complete doctrine of Theism
as to the Divine goodness which formerly opened up to us
in the course of our argument. In the law of conscience we
found that the good interprets itself as the right. The moral
good which commands us in conscience is righteousness. The
one idea only sustains itself in the other, and finds its
complement in it. The attribute of Divine goodness be-
comes, accordingly, in relation to moral life, also Divine
righteousness. The two conceptions are essentially inse-
parable. If we regard sin, then, in this higher theistic
light, we will at once see that suffering is its necessary mark
of punishment. Asserting itself in opposition to the law
of conscience, it thereby directly opposes itself to the
righteous will of God, of which that law is the expression,
and so provokes His punishment. Existing only as a
rebellious infraction of Divine will, it necessarily calls forth

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SIN. 333

the Divine wratli. In its very character, wherever it occurs
in the universe of God, sin accordingly is, and must be,
marked by His displeasure. It must bear the brand of
suffering. It must have its doom written on it. And in
this point of view, so far is suffering from constituting a
valid objection to the Divine goodness, that it is truly a
manifestation of that goodness. Eightly viewed, the Divine
punishment of sin is merely another side of the Divine
goodness. For inasmuch as goodness only completes itself
in righteousness, were sin or unrighteousness not visited
with punitive suffering, the Divine goodness could not be
the reality which conscience demands. It might remain a
vague and beautiful dream of the imagination; but a good-
ness which in any respect came short of righteousness
would, in the very nature of the case, prove a vanishing
shadow — a mere fiction, on which the heart could never
rest. Let the one idea be lost sight of, and the other will
altogether fail to legitimatise itself, or keep its ground. A
goodness which does not rest on justice, and embrace it,
would, in the highest meaning of the attribute, be no good-
ness— our own moral conscience being judge — and would
leave, therefore, no real foundation for that happiness in
whose behalf it is sometimes emptied of this essential
element. In all this view, therefore, the Divine goodness
is seen not only to be consistent with, but to be expressly
called forth in human suffering as the punishment of sin.

But when we contemplate sin, in its own essential
character, as most truly misery, this becomes still further
evident. Any other conception we can form of misery is

334 THEISM.

poor and trifling in comparison with that which is summed
up in the fact of sin itself The temporary evil of suff'ering
is, therefore, most truly good, when viewed as the chasten-
ing of sin, to deliver us from its power. Its bitterness is
a direct agency of Divine beneficence, to save us from a
darker and more hopeless bitterness. Had sin not thus
borne the reprobation of suff'ering, and man's sinful progress
experienced no check from it, the Divine goodness would un-
doubtedly have been left in far greater obscurity than it is.

But what of sin itself? What theistic explanation does
it admit of ? Has not our whole previous train of reasoning
been merely a fencing with the outer or accessory difficul-
ties of the subject, while the great difficulty lies here ? We
are certainly far from concealing that in the comprehensive
fact of sin is contained the chief mystery with which we
have to deal. We have, on the contrary, all along implied
this. It has been our aim simply to show, in reference to
human life, how all the difficulties attending the theistic
inference run up into this point, and here find their ultimate
force. And if, at length, in approaching this point, we find
that the light of explanation fails us, or, in other words, find
that we cannot at all resolve sin in our process of theistic
induction, it may at the same time aj^pear that this arises
from its very nature, which is such as compels us to cast
it out of the theistic argument, and 2^67^ ^^ liberates that
argument from its injurious burden, mysterious and irre-
solvable as it may for ever remain. It may be seen
that, while this mystery defies all solution, it separates
itself l)y its character from all direct relation to the

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SIN. 335'

Divine agency. Profound as is the difficulty it involves,
it is a difficulty, when rightly understood, not immediately
regarding the Divine character (about which its own
testimony leaves no doubt), but regarding its human
possibility.

Sin, as we have already assumed, is in its essential concep-
tion the revolt of the human self against the Divine. Whereas
the good consists for us in the harmony of the Divine and
the human will, the evil consists essentially in the insurrec-
tion of the latter against the former. The soul passes out
of the sphere of Divine conformity, and asserts itself in an
attitude of opposition to God and to goodness. This is the
most radical principle of moral evil. It is this element of
rebellious self-will against the Divine law that we specially
mean by sin. It expresses itself in many forms, and assumes
many characters ; but in this element of rebellious self-will
they all take their rise. This is the perverted essence which
pervades all.

Such being the true character of sin, it must be obvious,
in its very definition, that we cannot bring it into induc-
tive relation with the course of our evidence ; or, in other
words, that we cannot find any argumentative solution of
it. For how can we intelligibly relate that to God, whose
very essence consists in opposition to Him ? How can we
explain that which in itself, in its very conception, presents
the uttermost contradiction ? In order that anything may "*
be capable of explanation, it must exliibit some ground of
reason ; but here all is unreason. That any creature should
revolt aorainst its Creator can only present itself as the most

33G THEISM.

a\vful and iiuMliomable folly. Sin, therefore, baffles all
explanation. Every attempt that has been made to throw
any light npon it, or to resolve it inductively, has ended, in
the very nature of the case, in denying it.* All that we
can say or know is, that the possibility of sin lies in the
fact of human freedom. Man being made free to choose
good or evil, the choice of the latter was possible — but
further all is darkness ; and if we insist for a moment in
carrjdng our logical explanations up into this region, we
only plunge into deeper and more hopeless darkness.

But in this very confession of the utter unintelligibility
of sin, is not our argument relieved from its difficulty?
We cannot give any theistic explanation of it. But why ?
Because, in its very essence, it is anti-theistic. It is in
God's creation, but it is there as a blot upon it — in direct vio-
lation of the Divine order which otherwise prevails. In its
nature it wholly separates itself from God, and is, therefore,
whatever we may make of it, not entitled to reflect injuriously
on the Divine character. A true perception of sin leaves it, in-
deed, an insoluble difficulty, but is so far from allowing its
darkness to rest on the Divine wisdom and goodness, that it
is only against the truth of these attributes that its heinous-
ness comes fully into view. It is only its opposition to
Divine wisdom and love that makes sin what it is. And
to this itself bears witness in its own innermost darkness. In
the very act of stamping its atheistic impress upon the soul,
it belies its own act ; and in its deepest abandonment pro-

* See note at the end of the chapter, where the attempts of this kind most
deserving attention are briefly reviewed.

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SIN. 337

claims the reality of the Divine goodness with which it
strives. The rebellions self-will which opposes itself to
God, yet trembles before Him. It trembles because of its
own imquenchable witness to the truth of those perfections
which it practically denies. So long as conscience is not
utterly extinguished, there arises from the very heart of
depravity this irrepressible testimony. This it is, in fact,
which — asserting itself against the most persistent godless-
ness — gives to that godlessness all its direst unrest and
misery. The sense of guilt, in its worst agony, is nothing
save the consciousness of hostility to Divine wisdom and
goodness.

NOTE.

Various theories have professed to expound what is called the
origin of evil. The most comprehensive and impartial account of
these theories that we know of is to be found in the second book of
Dr Julius Miiller's treatise on the Christian doctrine of sin. On a
careful examination, one and all of them will be found to explain sin
by virtually deiiying it in its true character. Dr Miiller has reck-
oned them as four, under the several names of the theories of Dual-
ism, of Contrast, of Sense, and of Metaphysical Imperfection. The
only two of them that can be said to possess any special interest, or
to deserve any special notice, are those of Contrast and of Metaphy-
sical Imperfection. The former derives certain pretensions from its
analogy to that compensatory mode of argument which we have
pursued in previous chajDters. It is, in truth, nothing else than this
argument reduced to the palpable contradictoriness that lies in it
when pushed to extremity. The latter claims attention from the
influential names that have promulgated it, and the manner in which
it has been associated with Christian literature. Both, besides, have
this special claim upon our notice, that while neither of them can
be said any longer to possess vitality as speculative theories, they
yet truly live and find utterance in many of our current modes of
literary and theological cultm-e.

338 THEISM.

In this view we present here a summary of Dr Miiller's exposi-
tion of them, which has in some part elsewhere appeared, but which,
in relation to the subject of the foregoing chapter, may be interesting
to a certain class of readers. It will certainly serve to set forth more
clearly the conclusion of that chapter as to the absolute unintelligibi-
lity of the evil, and the consequent futility of all attempts to explain it.

The theory of Contrast may be thus stated : Evil, like darkness
or cold, is an indispensable element of alternation in human life.
AU individual reality is only the product of opposite forces working
together. Pure light were in itself perfectly colourless — identical,
in fact, with darkness : it is only the blending of the various shades
of both which gives us actual light. The plant, were it a single
power, would not grow : it is only the co-operation of opposite
powers which promotes its development. So in man, individuality
— character — is only the product of the opposing ethical moments of
good and evil. Perfect purity, without flaw, without struggle, would
be a mere empty and useless abstraction. All life and energy only
arise from the mutual conflict of the positive and negative. In
nature we have attraction and repulsion — positive and negative
electricity ; in ordinary life, pain and pleasure, rest and activity,
health and sickness. Take away any of these relative moments, the
other would disappear with it. Take away repulsion, there would
be no more attraction. Let pain disappear, so would pleasure.
Eest is no more rest if it does not spring from activity ; and the joy
of health is only known through sickness. Why should it be diffe-
rent in the sphere of morals 1 Here, too, there must be a polarity.
Good can only be in contradistinction to the evil. It is only from
their interaction that the moral life derives any character and energy.
How utterly devoid of interest — how stale, flat, and unprofitable —
were our life, were sin entirely to disappear ! Where would be all
that now in history or romance gives a charm to it 1 Where would
be the passions that now lend to poetry all its power, and to the arts
all their witchery ?

The relation of this to our previous compensatory mode of argu-
ment will be apparent. Whereas, however, that mode of argmnent
is simply made use of by us to show the good which still attends the
evil, and seems even to rise out of it — reduced, as it is here, to a
logical explanation of moral evil, it secures its object only by de-
stroying the fact to be explained. So far as we have urged the argu-
ment, it amounts to this, that the evil is everywhere contingently

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SIN. 339

related to the good, and appears in its mere capacity to be so con-
nected with it, that we do not know that we could have had the one,
and the other been absolutely excluded. But the present theory
not only finds good in the evil, but it makes moral evil an absolute
condition of moral goodness. In this view it is not, and cannot be
any longer evil. It enters no longer as a spring of disorder, but
as a necessary integral into the development of human life. In
fact, the good in contrast to the evil is no longer good, but rather
evil, and the evil good ; for it is only the quickening impulse of the
former gives the latter vitality and strength. Without this the good
were no reality, but a mere slumbering torpid potentiality. It lies
in the last logical results of this theory, therefore, to enthrone the
evil as the first principle. It does not depend upon the good, but
the good, so far as it is possessed of any living power, depends upon
it ; or, at any rate, the concrete reality in which they unite is some-
thing in which the properly distinctive characters of the two concep-
tions disappear.

But this theory moreover rests on a special misstatement of the
fact in question. It is by no means true that the good, as such,
needs the reaction of the evil to attain energy and consistency. No
doubt there are, as we have seen, forms of good which we can only
imagine in contrast to evil, — nay, there would seem to be, as we
formerly expressed it, a richer power of good in the end from the
very presence of the evil — but this is something wholly different
from recognising, according to the present theory, the good to be
absolutely dependent upon the evil, and only to be possessed of
activity from co-operation with it. Life and activity are, on the
contrary, essential elements of the good in itself. As a creaturely
product, it is certainly dependent for its development on the coaction
of relative forces, both bodily and mental ; but its relation to the
evil is still only, even when it derives strength from the relation,
one of conflict. It is the very warfare with the evil, and repulsion
of it, that imparts strength and higher glory to the good. Every
corrupting association of the evil with the good is, therefore, still so
far evil, and not good.

The second theory to which we have referred is that which traces
moral evil to the Metaphysical Imperfection of human nature. This
is especially known as the theory of Leibnitz in his Theodicee,
although it really dates from Augustine, and had even, in our
own literature, received an elaborate exposition some years before

340 THEISM.

the appearance of the Theodicee, in the well-known work of Bishop
King. According to this theory, evil is considered to be a mere
privation ; to be in morals, in short, what cold and darkness are in
physics — a pure negation. It is only the perfect or absolute that is
positive : all imperfection proceeding from limitation is of a priva-
tive or negative character. But God alone is perfect. The creature
in his very nature is limited. This limitation shows itself in man,
in the presence of error beside truth in his understanding — of pain
beside pleasure in his senses. Is it wonderful, then, that in his will
this limitation should also manifest itself in the presence of evil
beside the good 1 According to this view, evil takes its rise, not
in an efficient cause {causa efficieiis), but only in a causa deficiens.
God gives the creature his qualities only in so far as they are real
and positive ; the deficiency does not spring from His will, but from
the nature of the thing. God is willing to bestow every perfection
in the fullest possible degree, but the receptivity of the creature in
its very conception is limited. This limited receptivity has its ulti-
mate ground in the Divine understanding, the region of eternal
truth — the forms or ideas of the possible — the sole thing which God
has not made, as He is not the author of His own understanding. In
this way Leibnitz conceives that he obviates the reference of the
evil to God. Every positive faculty of man is to be traced back to
God ; but the evil, as a mere privation, cannot be so traced. What
is good Cometh from the strength of God— what is evil, from the
torpor of the creature.*

It has been shown by Dr Midler that this theory admits in some
degi-ee of two interpretations. It may be understood as either deriv-
ing sin necessarily out of the original imperfection of the creature, or
as only placing the possibility of sin in this imperfection. While
some of Leibnitz's expressions would seem to favour the latter inter-
pretation, there can yet be little doubt, we think, that it was in the
former sense he himself meant it to be understood, as in this sense
alone can it be said to have any title to be considered a theory of the
origin of evil. It was his whole object "to justify the ways of God
to man," and the secret of this justification he undoubtedly believed
himself to have found in the conception of evil as necessarily inhe-
rent in the limitations of the creature. Evil is a direct and inevit-
able consequence of these limitations — une suite des limitations 'pre-

* Tkeodicte, part i. § 20-33.

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SIN. 341

cedentes, qui sont originairement dans sa creature — so that in creating
the world at all, God (so to speak) could not help the admixture of
evil in it ; inasmuch as it could not be absolutely perfect, it could
not be free from evil. But the evil is the least that could have been.
The world is the " best of all possible worlds ! "

This theory of metaphysical imperfection has been among theolo-
gians the most favourite mode of explaining the origin of evil. It
took its rise in the case of Augustine, there can be no doubt, from
the necessity felt by him of opposing to the Dualistic conception of
the Manicheans some solution of the great problem in consistency
with the Divine unity and perfections. And it has maintained its
place in theology, as seeming to furnish, upon the whole, the solution
of this problem most reconcilable with these perfections. Among
our latest writers on Natural Theology, Dr Chalmers expounds it with
zest, and puts it forward as hypothetically valuable in meeting the
cavils of scepticism, although manifesting considerable reluctance to
accept it as satisfactory. There are perhaps few more signal examples
of the perverting influence of theoretic arbitrariness on theological
literature than that which is presented by this theory.

A little examination of it will serve to show this. And first of all,
the conception which it presents of sin is in direct contradiction to
the moral consciousness. Sin is not the ens privatum which this
theory holds it to be ; it is, on the contrary, of an essentially positive
character. It bears no analogy to any of the other limitations or
imperfections which attach to our nature ; these are merely the
appropriate accidents or conditions of our finite being. But it is, on
the other hand, of the very essence of sin that it reveals itself from
the first as an element of disorder and opposition within us. If re-
garded as inherent in the necessary imperfection of our being, we
are then reduced to the strange conclusion, that out of the very limi-
tations which go to constitute the conception of the creature there
arises a limitation which contradicts this conception. But further,
in making sin, as this theory does, the necessary result of the imper-
fections of our nature, it thereby, no less than all other theories,
really destroys it. For sin being necessary, it is no longer morally
blamable. If it spring out of the essential limitations of our being,
it is no longer a fault, but only a misfortune. In this point of view,
too, this theory wholly fails in its attempts to turn aside the reference
of sin to God. Granting that this creaturely limitation is the proxi-
mate cause, yet this creaturely limitation is only such as the appoint-

342 THEISM.

ment of God. There is only a causa cleficiens in so far as called into
existence by the causa eficiens. Leibnitz's distinction of understand-
ing and will in the Deity does not really avail to obviate this con-
clusion, unless the distinction is to be seized in an absolutely dual-
istic sense.

And if necessary in its origin, sin, according to this theory, must
be no less eternal in its duration ; inasmuch as the creature can
never be absolutely perfect, sin can never wholly disappear. It can
still only be a vanishing minimum, as the creature approximates to
the perfection of the Creator ; and this is an idea which would seem
even to have entered into the mind of Leibnitz, in his famous repre-
sentation of the human spirit as an asymptote of the Divine. Could
we conceive the still vanishing limit entirely away, man would be
no longer man, but God. It is clear, then, that this theory, pushed
to its fair logical results, only escapes Pantheism by making sin
eternal. Man only ceases to be a sinner by becoming God. Most
singular and instructive coincidence with the latest outrages of Ger-
man speculation, and the favourite representations of the most seduc-
tive school of infidel literature, both in our own country and America !
So striking is this coincidence, that in many of the expressions of
Emerson, Leibnitz and even sometimes Augustine might be supposed
to speak. From quite opposite impulses, but under the same rage
for theorising, the modern transcendentalist has reproduced their
idea of the evil being simply a deficiency of the good ; only he has
apprehended, which they did not, this idea in its strict logical conse-
quence— as cutting up by the root the consciousness of guilt, and, in
making sin a necessity, annihilating it as a moral fact.

It is this strangely instructive result which enables us to see in
the clearest light the fundamental vice of Leibnitz's theory, and, in
fact, of all the theories on our subject. This vice consists in the appli-
cation of purely logical or inductive conceptions to moral truth, while
this truth in its very nature transcends the grasp of logic. It makes
itself good in the inner spiritual consciousness, but it cannot be in-
ductively seized and accounted for. The attempt so to seize it
necessarily terminates in misapprehending it. It is obvious, for ex-
ample, that it is such a perverting misapprehension which underlies
the whole scope of the present theory. For if it does not confound
metaphysical with moral defect, it yet makes the one an inevitable
consequence of the other. A relation is thus implied which is wholly
inapplicable, between mere perfection of being and perfection of moral

SPECIAL EXAMINATION — SIN. 343

life. In the former respect, God alone is or can be perfect ; in the
latter there may be, so far as we know, any variety of relative per-
fection. Sinlessness has no connection with mere mass of being, but
exists entirely in the harmonious proportion between being and the
moral laws under which it exists. And in like manner, sin has, and
can have, no connection with mere metaphysical limitation or defect
of being, but exists entirely in the discordance between it and its
proper moral conditions. The two conceptions of good as mere being,
and good as moral harmony, are totally and essentially distinct, and
nothing but the most hopeless and irretrievable error can arise from
their confusion. In the one case it is substance with which we deal,
—more or less ; in the other it is will,— right or wrong. No circle of
thought can ever unite these conceptions, which are absolutely dis-
tinguished. We do not say, indeed, that the metaphysical definitions
of being and non-being, affirmative and negative, possession and want,
have no relation to the investigation of sin ; but only that they are
totally misapplied when made to express its real and essential prin-
ciple. And so long as philosophy or theology remains fast bound in
such logical abstractions, neither can have any true apprehension of
its character, and in attempting to define it can only mistake it. We
must rise into a quite diff'erent region, and bring into view that
mysterious personality, which at once so directly relates man to the
Fountain of all life, and yet contains within it the capacity of
furthest alienation from Him, before we can reach any genuine per-
ceptions of sin, and apprehend its essential contents. And when we
have done this, we will not fail to apprehend, at the same time, how
futile must be all attempts to explain the origin of sin, from the very
character of the subject in which it takes its rise. All that we can
know is, that the possibility of sin lies in the fact of personality ; in
other words, in the fact of human freedom. And as this fact is
wholly inexplicable, so is equally the sin which has sprung from it.
As Coleridge has said, with that profound moral insight which so
often marks his scattered observations, and renders them so valuable
to the Christian student,—" It is a mystery, that is a fact, which we
see but cannot explain ; and the doctrine (he means of original sin),
a truth which we apprehend, but can neither comprehend nor com-
municate. And such, by the quality of the subject (namely, a re-
sponsible will), it must be, if it be a truth at all." *

* Aids to Refiedion, vol. i. p. 730. Pickering. 1848.

344 THEISM.

§iy._CHAPTEK YII.

CONSIDERATIONS, ETC. — DEEIVED FEOM " WRITTEN
REVELATION."

In the preceding chapters we have carried out our treatment
of difficulties regarding the wisdom and goodness of God in
so far as we are enabled to do by the light of nature.
These difficulties, we have seen, in their most formid-
able aspect, concentrate in moral evil ; which, on the
other hand, refuses to be related inductively to the great
Source of being, but asserts itself as the mysterious product
of the human free-will. In its very nature, sin utterly sepa-
rates itself from God, while yet bearing in its dark rebellion
an unequivocal testimony to the Divine existence and
character. Whatever may be its mystery and difficulty,
therefore, it seems undoubted that the fact of moral evil is
not entitled to affect injuriously the theistic inference.

This conclusion appears to us so far satisfactory. As to
the final difficulty of the origin of evil, it has been our ex-
press aim to show that it admits in its nature of no solution.
It presents an impenetrable mystery ; only the hopeless

CONSIDEEATIONS FEOM EEVELATION. 345

darkness wliicli here at length meets us, cannot be allowed
to rest legitimately on the Divine character. According
even to the testimony of sin itself, that character stands out
in clear brightness against it.

In case, however, that any doubt should still surround
this conclusion, we are finally led by the terms of oiu- sub-
ject into the region of special Divine revelation. We do
not suppose that it is meant that we should enter into any
special proof of the Divine authority of this revelation. All
that seems to us to be appropriately implied in the terms of
the Essay is, that we should take a glance at this higher
region of revelation before we close. Having sought in the
lower region of natural inductive inquiry for all the light
within our reach, we are invited finally to cast our gaze to
that brighter light which professes to shine upon us directly
from God Himself The very strength and clearness of the
lustre which the Christian revelation sheds around the
Divine character, may at the same time go far, apart from
any formal proof, to vindicate its Divine authority.

Taking up, then, our argument at the point at which we
left it, we had reached the conclusion that sin, from its very
nature, could not only have no productive relation to God,
but was directly opposed to Him. At this point, the gospel
meets us in the most significant manner. It declares in its
very conception God's hatred of sin, and opposition to it.
It affirms that it was for the very purpose of destroying sin
that He sent His Son Jesus Christ into the world. We are
no longer left to infer from a process of reasoning regarding

346 THEISM.

the Divine character, as revealed in the depths of our own
conscience, that God is 02)posed to sin, but in the mission and
death of the Lord Jesus He Himself makes this specially
known to us with the most solemn effect. All our Lord did
and suffered bore the same meaning of Divine hatred against
sin. All expressed with an imperishable force that God is
" of purer eyes than to behold evil,'' and cannot " look on
iniquity.'"

Thus carrying on our argument from the negative point
at which we left it, we see with what decisive clearness the
gospel interprets the indications of nature, and shows that
the burden and injury of sin, however inscrutable, are
directly rejected by God. Ascending slowly towards this
conclusion from the attentive scrutiny of our moral con-
sciousness, we are met by a direct utterance from God Him-
self, which places our conclusion beyond all hesitation, and
enables us to rest in it with an impregnable security.

But this negative testimony bears us but a little way into
the full light which the Gospel sheds upon the Divine
character. In this indirect manner it serves to vindicate
that character from the application of the objection founded
on the existence of moral evil ; but in what a positive gioiy
of wisdom and beneficence does it further place it ! If its
utterance, on the one hand, is that God is righteous, and
liateth sin ; its utterance, on the other, is that " God is light,
and in Him is no darkness at all ; " * and, moreover, and
emphatically, that " God is love."f " In this was manifested

* 1 John, i. 5. t Ibid., iv. S.

CONSIDEEATIONS FEOM EEVELATION. 347

the love of God towards us, because that God sent His only
begotten Son into the world, that we might live through
Hiin. Herein is love ; not that we loved God, but that He
loved us, and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our
sins." * " Por God so loved the world that He gave His
only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him might
not perish, but have everlasting life/' -[-

Such is the full lustre of meaning which the revelation of
the Lord Jesus sheds upon the dim hints of nature. If,
after all their study of the latter, there be minds that return
uncertain whether the Power that speaks to them in its
varied changes, and is present in its varied aspects, be a
beneficent Power, here, as it were, the heavens open, and a
voice is heard whose utterance is a gospel of love. What-
ever doubts may remain to the merely natural view, — what-
ever difficulties may impede the promptings of the heart, —
are for ever dissipated by the clear and strong truth not only
announced in words, but expressed in action, — not only de-
clared by the mouth of an apostle, but exemplified by the
mission and death of His own Son, — that God is love.
" Scarcely for a righteous man will one die : yet peradven-
ture for a good man some would even dare to die. But God
commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet
sinners, Christ died for us.'' J

Sin, we see, so far from being entitled to darken to us in
any degree the character of God, is the very fact which serves
to bring out, in its greatest fulness and depth of brightness,

* 1 John, iv. 8, 9, 10. f John, iii. IG. X Romans, v. 7, 8.

348 THEISM.

the beneficence of that character. It is against this dark
shadow that its histre comes forth with the most glorious
clearness. Had there been no sin, it is true that its difficulty
would not have perplexed us. Yet it is to the very pre-
sence of sin we owe the surpassing manifestation of Divine
goodness in the gospel. We see the Divine love here as we
could not otherwise have seen it, stronger than sin or death,
triumphing over the very enmity assailing it, and out of the
very darkest difficulty in the moral universe bringing forth
the most significant tribute to the wisdom and beneficence
of the Divine government.

It is especially in the perfect harmony of Divine righteous-
ness and love, as displayed in the gospel, — in the spectacle
which it exhibits of God hating sin, and yet loving the
sinner, — that its testimony is so emphatic, and that we are
enabled to dwell with such satisfaction on that testimony.
We have already seen how inalienably intertwined are the
attributes of goodness and righteousness — how the former
only sustains itself in the latter, and, apart from it, would
wholly fail to preserve its own peculiar life and virtue ; but
while our highest conception of those attributes shows them
indeed to be one and indivisible, yet it must be admitted
that they present themselves in the mirror of actual life fre-
quently broken and dissevered. We see the traces of each,
on the one hand, in happiness — on the other, in punishment ;
but we fail often to see their harmony ; we are unable to
join in a living synthesis the scattered intimations of nature;
we cannot bring into consistency its disjointed speech. But

CONSIDEEATIONS FROM EEVELATION. 349

in the revelation of the Lord Jesus, the fragmentary hints of
nature receive a consistent and satisfactory interpretation.
Goodness and righteousness are beheld in the sacrifice of
the Cross as nowhere else. Here " mercy and truth have
met together ; righteousness and peace have kissed each
other.'' * Here the strength of love and " the beauty of
holiness " are mingled in a centre of Divine perfection, upon
which the human heart can repose for ever with the firmest
faith and liveliest hope.

* Psalm Ixxxv. 10.

350 THEISM.

§ IV.— CHAPTER VIII.

THE DIVINE MAN — INCAENATE WISDOM AND LOVE.

With the last chapter the argument, as apprehended by us,
might appropriately have closed ; it seems so superfluous to
argTie on the foundation of the gospel revelation for the
wisdom and goodness of God — that revelation being only
conceivable as in the highest degree an expression of both.
Yet it may be well simply to glance at some of the special
features of Divine excellence thus declared to us. The
teaching and character of the Lord Jesus, and the adaptation
of the gospel to the spiritual elevation and consolation of
the human race, seem to present, in this view, the most
prominent points for notice.

It is not now denied by any, even by those who repudiate
the Divine authority of Christianity, that we have in the
teaching and character of Christ a rare exhibition of wisdom
and goodness. It is acknowledged that He who, eighteen
hundred years ago, arose a Prophet among a feeble and dis-
tracted people, sunk in social and religious debasement,
taught a purer and more exalted morality, and lived a life

THE DIVINE MAN. 851

of more beautiful beneficence, than the history of the world
elsewhere presents. While such a phenomenon, in all the
circumstances, must appear somewhat inexplicable to those
who do not recognise in it anything specially Divine, to
the Christian it appears clearly intelligible and significant.
He recognises in the man Christ Jesus the incarnation of
Divine wisdom and love. He beholds in him the Word
made flesh, who " dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory,
the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace
and truth."

When we consider the special point in our argument
at which we have arrived, we recognise the direct bearing
upon it of this manifestation of Divine wisdom in Christ.
With order everywhere pervading the physical world — with
nature's harmonies all around — there reigned confusion alone
in the life of man. There were in him the promptings of a
noble life, which at the best remained unsatisfied, and which
too frequently were soon utterly crushed imder the dominion
of his lower propensities and tendencies. There was govern-
ment everywhere, but here misrule. Morality seemed rather
a varying fiction than a sovereign reality. Giving all honour
to the aspiring aims of heathen wisdom, it will not be main-
tained that any ancient moralist succeeded in discovering a
perfect polity for this sphere of misrule. In the Porch and
in the Academy there had, no doubt, been taught some pure
and elevated lessons, and certain hints of a Divine morality
had there been reached, which, as we read them now, seem an-
ticipations of a loftier truth ; but in none of the classic schools
do we find a moral doctrine at once adequate and consistent.

352 THEISM.

This is only to be found in the revelation of Jesus Christ.
It is only in His character that we perceive a perfect example
of moral order, and in His doctrine that Ave acknowledge a
perfect rule of moral polity. He alone fully understood what
was in man, and what lie needed to raise him above the
mere earthly life so natural to him, into the nobler spiritual
life of truth and duty. Stoicism on the one hand, and Pla-
tonism on the other, and, later than either, Eclecticism, as
represented by the devout and meditative Plutarch, had
discerned, with sufficiently clear vision, certain aspects of
man's spiritual being; but they altogether failed in that
comprehensive conception of it which is expressed in the
teaching of Christ. They failed to seize the twofold character
of moral greatness and yet natural degradation which man
everywhere presents, and which is at once so clearly mir-
rored and so comprehensively addressed in Christianity. This
profound mqral insight and completely adequate power of
moral instruction are nowhere else exhibited. Seeing as
man never saw into the secrets of the human heart, the
Lord Jesus " spake as never man spake.'' His simple utter-
ances breathed a wisdom of which the sagacity of Socrates
and the genius of Plato had only caught far-off and imperfect
glimpses. He taught man, as neither of them had done, to
know himself; He touched with a master hand the secrets of
his moral being, revealing their discord, and providing the
key to their higher and purer harmony. He brought back, in
short, into the sphere of moral misrule, moral order; so that
the Theist behold^s in Him a perfect expression of Divine
wisdom. The difficulties which may result from the broken

THE DIVINE MAN. 353

and defaced manifestations of this wisdom in the general
picture of humanity have here no place ; for here is the
representation, at once in life and in doctrine, of moral
perfection. In the man Jesus Christ all the disorders of
humanity disappear, and the Divine and human are seen in
complete and most beautiful union. Here we have the
"possibility of the human race made real;'' and in the lustre
of this perfect revelation of moral excellence the Divine
wisdom shines forth with conspicuous fulness. Nay, here
to the christian Theist is the Divine wisdom, "its express
image and the brightness of its glory.''

And here is certainly not less conspicuous the revelation
of the Divine goodness. The life and the death of Christ
presents, in truth, the most exalted picture of love that we
can conceive. The more we contemplate them, the more
does the impression of Divine beneficence rise upon us.
He went about continually doing good. He dwelt among
men as a brother, sharing their joys, and alleviating with
an inexhaustible fulness of compassion theii^ sorrows. He
lived only to communicate happiness, and to shed around Him
blessing. His ear was ever open to the cry of the wretched,
and His hand ever ready to help the helpless. No aspect
of human suffering repelled His sympathy — no magnitude of
moral baseness checked the flow of His pity. He healed
the broken-hearted, and set at liberty the bruised spirit.
He made the blind to see, the lame to walk, the deaf to
hear : the sick man heard His voice, and his sickness was
cured ; the dead heard it, and rose to life again. The spirit
of beneficence animated Him with so Divine a strength that

354 THEISM.

it triumphed over every obstacle of hatred and persecution
which surrounded Him, and flowed forth in currents of kind-
ness towards His most obstinate and bitter enemies. His
love sought and accepted no reward save its own exalted
exercise. Persecution could not prevent it — indignity could
not repel it — contumely could not ruffle it — death could not
quench it. Wliat a depth of Divine compassion breathes in
His lament, " 0 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often would I
have gathered thy children together as a hen gathereth her
chickens under her wings, but ye would not ! '' What a
fervour of infinite mercy is expressed in His prayer, "Father,
forgive them — they know not what they do."

The whole life of the Saviour is truly a life of love. We
cannot regard any feature of it that does not bear the
impress of beneficent devotion ; and as we evermore medi-
tate on its Divine beauty, we still see some finer traits of
tenderness in it, and a more ennobling stamp of grace.

But it is in the sufferings and death of Christ that the
picture of Divine love appears most marvellous and trans-
cendent. Here we behold Him wrestling not only with
others' misery and overcoming it, but moreover with the
dark burden of His own inexplicable agony, and triumphing
under all. As we contemplate the lonely and shadowed
figure of Gethsemane's P-arden, bowed beneath a load of
suffering which tongue shall never tell, and as we raise our
eyes to the bleeding victim on the cross, we feel that there
is a light of inexpressible love shining on us from amid
all that darkness, as it burns with a radiant glow in the
bosom of the sufferer. The presence of a love stronger
than death alone sustains under all that mysterious passion.

THE DIVINE MAN. 355

There is here, our hearts tell iis, a love which " passeth
knowledge/' There have, indeed, been others who have
loved unto death — ^who have counted not their own lives
dear, for some noble principle or glorious cause — yet there
is something in the love of Christ which at once sets it
above the loftiest example, or even the loftiest ideal of merely
human affection. It is a love solitary in its depth and
grandeur, reaching far beyond our conception in the height
to which it rises above moral sympathy, and triumphs over
moral enmity. Our minds cannot understand, but our hearts
acknowledge a love which fed upon the very neglect, and
took streng-th from the very contempt, which it encountered ;
a love which unworthiness only quickened, and hostility
only fanned— which only glowed with the brighter and
more ardent lustre the more it was crushed and bruised —
which, from the bloody sweat of Gethsemane's garden, and
the darker agonies of Calvary's cross, only gathered fresh
vigour and mastery, till it brought forth battle unto victory,
and, ascending to that eternal Bosom whence it emanated,
" led captivity captive," and " gave gifts to men."

It is surely impossible to contemplate such a love with-
out feeling that the great heart of God whence it came is
love ; and whatever difficulties may beset the burdened
human heart, there is here a presence of love unstained, to
which it can ever joyfully turn. There is here a radiance
of beneficence which shines only the more intense from the
dark background of sin and sorrow which reflects it. There
issues here, from the very shadowing of the Divine charac-
ter, a richer brightness, and from the hiding of its strength
only a more glorious fulness.

356 THEISM.

§ lY.—CHAPTER IX.

THE GOSPEL A DIVINE POWER OF MORAL ELEVATION AND
CONSOLATION.

How directly the Gospel manifests the wisdom and goodness
of God has been already apparent. It is throughout ex-
pressly and most impressively a revelation of both. It is
not merely, however, on its own profession, as it were, but
moreover in its practical effects, that we are enabled to
appeal to it so confidently in this respect. It not merely
tells us that God is love, but it exliibits the fact in its
widely beneficent influence.

It is, indeed, impossible to. conceive how the Divine wis-
dom and goodness could have been demonstrated, in the
special circumstances which tend to obscure them, more
efiectually than by such a discovery as the gospel. The
great difficulty, we have seen, upon which inquiry can
throw no light — before which the highest eff'orts of human
wisdom are powerless — is the existence of moral evil. In
such a conjuncture the gospel meets us, not only telling us
of Divine wisdom and goodness, but proving itself to be the

PUEIFYING AGENCY OF THE GOSPEL. 357

revelation of both in its effectual dealing with sin. It lays
hold of this fact as no philosophy has ever done, revealing
at once its true character and the means of deliverance from
it. It presents, for the first time, the full reality of the evil,
and the full power of redemption from it.

This redemptive power of the gospel presents a twofold
aspect of pardon and of sanctification. Human life, in its deep
disorder, needed not only a new power of virtue, but a free gift
of reconciliation. Before the soul can rise in holy love to God,
the curse of estrangement from Him must be removed, and this
is only accomplished by the sacrifice of the Cross. The living
and thankful surrender of the human to the Divine will
(whereby sin is evermore subdued, and virtue evermore ad-
vanced), only rests on the great fact of Christ's propitiatory
sacrifice. It is this which alone renders Christian virtue pos-
sible, and gives it all its meaning. It was such a sacrifice as
this for which all heathenism cried out, but which all human
effort could not make. It was the want of such a sacrifice that
left heathenism so powerless. The human heart can only
rest on the eternal foundation of an accomplished atonement,
whereby God is beheld " reconciling the world unto Him-
self,'' and " not imputing unto man his trespasses." Here
alone it finds a power of Divine peace and restoration. The
blessing of pardon comes to it in Jesus Christ with an
unspeakable force of healing. Its wounds are medicated, its
terrors allayed, its burden of transgression removed ; and,
rejoicing in the grace of the Divine presence, it catches the
sunlight of Divine purity as it falls on it in clear effulgence.
The gift of reconciliation and the power of moral renova-

358 THEISM.

tion are inseparably conjoined in the gospel. It meets
man's necessity of mediation with an offended God in order
that it may destroy within him the dominion of sin, and re-
constitute and advance the kingdom of moral order. Hea-
thenism could do neither. It could neither abate the terrors
of guilt, nor give strength in the struggle with evil. But the
gospel, by one and the same power, accomplishes both.
The act of grace only completes itself in the work of holi-
ness, which inseparably takes its rise in the former, and
grows therefrom, as the fair tree from its happy springing
in the prepared soil. The seeds of a new moral wellbeing
are already quickened in the first contact of the soul with
the Divine favour, and ready to develop into all forms of
moral loveliness. All springs from, and all depends upon,
the Divine power revealed by the gospel. Such a power
alone enables man successfully to resist temptation and
overcome evil. It alone secures him the mastery over all
that is base and disorderly within him. It alone strengthens
him for daily duty, and when the enticements of sin prove
strongest, and the sense of responsibility sleeps, guards him
from the snare of earthly passion, and guides him in the
way of heavenly aspii^ation. Other agencies may so far help
to improve his social condition, and even to refine and
elevate his moral affections ; but they cannot any of them,
as this does, touch with renewing power the secret springs
of his being, and advance him into a higher sphere of spiri-
tual purity. They cannot any of them, as this does, raise
him above the world of sense, and bring him near to the
God of holiness. " For whatsoever is born of God over-

CONSOLATIONS OF THE GOSPEL. 359

cometh the world ; and this is the victory that overcometh
the world, even our faith."

Further, the gospel is an effectual source of consolation
to man. In a previous chapter we have spoken of the
beneficent use of sorrow, and of the virtuous strength and
beauty which its presence often achieves in human life. It
now becomes us to observe that the Divine element which
is thus in sorrow, only rises to its genuine measure and
reality in the gospel. Here alone does it become truly
tempered into patience, and deepened into experience, and
exalted into hope. Here alone does earthly grief become
transmuted into heavenly fervour, and tears change into
rapture. Here only does the sorrowing soul rise into
spiritual strength, and a rare and self-denying devotion,
where the light of Heaven illuminates its darkness ; and in
the brightness thus reflected from a higher sphere, " the
sufferings of this present time are felt not worthy to be
compared with the glory to be revealed."

This consoling revelation of futurity is among the most
divinely beneficent features of the gospel. Previously, there
may have been a dim sense of man's immortality, and of
the preparatory character of this life in relation to a higher.
There were some, we know, who could write with pathetic
beauty of the nobler life upon which the soul would enter
beyond the grave ; but the clear reality of a future life was
alone disclosed in the revelation of the Lord Jesus. He
alone " abolished death, and brought life and immortality to
light through the gospel." It is only through His blessed
teaching that the faith of immortality has become the living

360 THEISM.

possession of the human mind and heart. He alone has
shed an eternal brightness around the darkness of the pre-
sent, and made all who believe in Him to feel with an
unquenchable conviction that they shall never die. " I am
the Resurrection and the Life : he that believeth in me,
though he were dead, yet shall he live ; and whosoever
liveth and believeth in me shall never die.''

In what a light of Divine meaning does this revelation of
immortality set the brief period of earthly life ! What a
source of consoling strength is it to the weary human heart
in its struggles with sin and sorrow ! It comes as a beam
piercing the darkness from a higher region of wisdom and
love, of truth and justice, touching what were otherwise
dim and strange with a radiance of heavenly significance,
and the " otherwise unmeaning ciphers of time changing to
orders of untold value." It is this faith of eternal life
which now in so many homes lightens privation, and in so
many hearts keeps off despair ; which brings peace to the
troubled, and resignation to the mourner, and takes even
the gloom of fear from the night of death, as it opens up the
heaven beyond.

The meaning which the gospel has thus shed on life and
death and futurity, giving man to see their true relation,
serves, perhaps more than anything else, to reconcile the
difficulties of time, and " to justify the ways of God to
man.'' For it opens up a boundless prospect of being, in the
light of which the perplexities of this earthly scene, if they
do not disappear, yet become significant of divine results

CONSOLATIONS OF THE GOSPEL. 361

of the most exalted and beneficent character. Whatever
there may be here that passes his comprehension, or even
sometimes wearies his heart, the Christian, carrying as he
does the peace of God within him, while the glory of
immortality shines before him, is enabled to thank God and
take couraoe.

2 A

362 THEISM.

§ lY.— CHAPTER X.

LIMITED EECEPTION OF THE GOSPEL — MILLENNIAL PEOSPECT.

There is an obvious objection, we are well aware, that may-
be taken to the foregoing representation. If the gospel be
such a power of moral elevation and consolation to man — if
it can so effectually restore the ruin wrought within him by
sin, and thus manifests practically that perfect wisdom and
goodness of which it speaks — why, it may be asked, has its
influence hitherto been so limited ? Why does it prevail
within so narrow a compass, and, even where it does prevail,
why is its beneficent power so obstructed and inadequate ?
A further difiiculty would seem to emerge upon us from the
very heart of the evangelical revelation of Divine wisdom and
mercy.

That this, however, is only a new form of the old difficulty
of sin — of the fact of moral evil at all — is evident on a
little reflection. For the undoubted reason why the gospel
is, at this day, so slightly influential, is, that it is opposed by
man's unbelief and selfishness. Men will not come unto
Christ that they may have life. That sin which Christ lived
and died to destroy, which His Spirit in the church every-
where is now working to destroy, opposes itself with

LIMITED EECEPTION OF THE GOSPEL. 363

hardened hostility to the truth, and where it cannot alto-
gether oppose, degrades and corrupts it.

But could not God overcome this hostility ? Is it not the
special representation of the gospel that it is only every^vhere
overcome by His direct agency ? And why is not that agency
so powerfully and universally exerted, as to bring all under
its benign and happy sway ? In such depths of dark and
almost irreverent questioning we lose our footing, and are
perhaps better silent in hopeful trust than loud in curious
reply. Having acknowledged to the full extent the awful
mystery of sin, we might rest our answer on this mystery.
Wholly inscrutable, there is nothing about it more inscrut-
able than its continued power of resistance to the gospel —
than its opposition to the truth bearing upon it at every
point, and summonmg it to surrender. A few words of ex-
planation, however, suggest themselves.

It is no doubt true that it is only through special Divine
agency that the gospel everywhere makes progress, and that
it is possible for us to conceive such a forth -putting of this
agency as might speedily bring the whole world under its
sway ; yet it is no less, and in the very nature of the case,
true, that this agency everywhere only works in co-operation
with the free agency of man. It is a persuasive power,
eliciting and strengthening man's spirit, but in no case
forcibly overbearing it even for its most holy purposes. " The
whole course of history, as well as the express teaching of
revelation, prove that God has ever dealt with man, not by
the strength of an irresistible power crushing all that is
contrary to it, but by the moral strength of those Divine
influences by which He seeks to draw every inferior will into

364 THEISM.

true harmony with His own perfect will. And no doubt
this is so, because, consistently with the blessed perfection of
God, it could not be otherwise ; because He is most glori-
fied in being served by a world of created beings, who
are endued with the mysterious power of willing good or
evil, and who, through His grace and goodness, have been
each one brought into true harmony with Him/'* It is not
difficult to see, indeed, that the idea of a forcible and com-
pulsory advance of the gospel is not for a moment tenable
even as a supposition. For in the very statement of this
idea there is already implied the annihilation of the moral
quality in man, which alone constitutes the gospel so great
a blessing to him, or even makes him possibly a subject of
it. Unless. man were truly possessed of a will, the gospel
would lose all meaning, as man would lose all distinction
from the objects of nature around him. In such a case,
it has been well said, " There could be really no true
living being in the world except God. For to have a
will is in truth to live. Wliat are all things without this
but mere machines, which must do the order of the one
Will which acts through them ? What are they but mere
shadowy figures of being cast forth from the one Being ? If
we do not believe that there are separate wills, with this
awful power of resisting the one Will, we must either make
the perfectly good God the direct cause of evil, or we must
admit a second first cause from whom that evil springs.'' f

Here, therefore, we come back to the final mystery of crea-
tion, the fact of human freedom. In this fact is contained
at once man's glory and the possibility of his fearful revolt

* Sermons l>y tlio Bishop of Oxford, p. 95 : 1849. f Ibid., pp. 95, 96.

LIMITED KECEPTION OF THE GOSPEL. 365

and shame. It is this alone which at once makes him a
subject of Divine grace, and enables him to oppose that
grace. Forcibly to destroy the capability of opposition,
would be to destroy the very character of his being, and to
leave him incapable of good any more than of evil. It is the
awful peril of freedom, that while man may rise into union
with God, and become a partaker of the Divine nature, he
may no less harden himself against God, and fall away
from Him into an ever deeper revolt and abandonment of
selfishness.

While, therefore, it is truly saddening and perplexing that
the benign influence of the gospel has hitherto been confined
within such narrow limits, it must be kept in view that this
restraint of the gospel springs from man's sinful opposition,
and not from any deficiency of wisdom or love in the Divine
will. This, we apprehend, will not be denied by any Theist.
Whatever be the more special views entertained in connec-
tion with this point, every Christian Theologian must admit
that the perfection of the Divine character is not implicated
in the restrained influence of the gospel. And this is all
that is sufiicient for our purpose to hold. Here, as hitherto,
the mystery lies before us, impenetrably shrouded in its very
nature, but reflecting its darkness directly, not on the Divine
character, but on the mysterious fact of human freedom.

Let us observe, at the same time, before passing finally
from the subject, that there is disclosed to us in the future
the prospect of a universal reign of holiness. The kingdom
of Divine order, we are assured, shall yet prevail throughout
the whole moral, as now throughout the whole physical world.
To this gloriously beneficent end, human progress is now, amid

36G THEISM.

whatever perplexities, everywhere tending. There may be
much to cloud this prospect ; there may even seem, in certain
aspects of social life, and of literary and speculative culture
in our day, to be rather a recession than an advance of the
" gospel of the kingdom.'' Yet it is amid such very crises
that Christianity is found pre-eminently to approve itself
the power of God and the wisdom of God for the world's
salvation. It puts forth its greatest strength in seasons of
the utmost spiritual darkness. When there seems to be only
the disturbance of conflicting opinions, there is silently pre-
paring beneath the embryotic confusion a fresh life, destined
to rise into nobler and fairer forms of wisdom and beneficence
than any that have gone before. And this will certainly be
the issue of present as of former conflicts. The Truth of
God, purified by the very assaults which seem to threaten
it, will go forth with a new strength, " conquering and to
conquer."

And this it will continue to do, till its purifying spirit
penetrate every relation, and beautify every aspect of human
life, till it stamp its bright and gladdening impress on every
feature alike of individual and social culture, and throughout
the moral universe there reign at once the most perfect order
and the purest love. As we believe in God, we believe in
the advent of this better time, "when all the kingdoms of the
earth shall become the kingdom of our Lord and His Christ ;"
when unhappiness shall be no more, because sin shall be no
more, and, amid the activities of unmingled beneficence, the
world shall forget its past conflicts, and rejoice in an ever-
lasting peace.

CONCLUSION.

CONCLUSION.

It now only remains to conclude our subject, by deducing
" from the whole the inferences most necessary for, and use-
ful to, mankind/' It appears to us that we will best do this
by briefly pointing out the essential connection of Theism
both with a true worship and a true morality. There are
no inferences which can possibly be more necessary and useful
than these, and both seem to spring directly out of the whole
course of our thought and reasoning in the present Essay.

Theism, in its full and consistent interpretation, as set
forth in these pages, is the doctrine of one almighty, wise,
and loving Will. Personality is the central and most
essential element of the doctrine. It is only this fact, ex-
pressed in our deepest consciousness, that contains for us at
once the beginning and the completion of the theistic argu-
ment. Around this the whole doctrine gathers in its mani-
fold significance and interest. From the same fact springs
all its distinctive character of difficulty. For the final view
unfolded by it is that of one creative Will in relation to
created wills, which, while proclaiming their immediate de-
pendence upon the former — "from whom, and by whom.

370 THEISM.

and through whom, are all things'' — yet really possess a
life of their own, which may oppose itself to the supreme
Source of life. In this antinomy Theism finds at once all
its meaning and all its mystery. Herein is the one compre-
hending problem of creation ; and yet herein, as it has been
the whole aim of our argument to show, is the only key to
an explanation of creation, which does not contradict equally
the demands of reason and the promptings of conscience.

In this doctrine of a personal God, to whom man holds a
free personal relation, there is, we now assert, the only basis
for a real and intelligent worship. A divine Being, in
whom man lives, and yet from whose life he is, in a true
sense, separate, is, and can be, alone an object of pious inte-
rest and devotion. Only towards such a Being can there be
any impulse of solemn conviction — of reverent feeling. Let
the fundamental theistic conception of will disappear, and
there is no more any living Spirit to receive, or any living
spirits to render worship. Substitute for this conception
either the materialistic notion of law, or the pantheistic
dream of a vast nature-life, and piety becomes a nonentity.
Tor where there is no self-sacrifice, there can be no spiiitual
offering. There may be organic unity, but there cannot be
moral harmony. In seeking to preserve the idea of life in
contrast to what it calls " mechanical conceptions " of the
Deity, our modern unbelief really empties life of all its
noblest essence. It finds its highest expression in mere
nature-growth, whereas this growth is only the dim shadow
and type of the true life of the soul. It is only, as it were, the
rippling play mirroring afar off the true depths of life, self-

CONCLUSION. 371

centred in God and in man, made in God's image. This
element of self, as something wholly distinct and peculiar in
creation, alone enables ns to reach the genuine meaning of
life ; and in the interchange between the finite and the In-
finite self, the free happy ofi'ering up of the one into the all-
embracing bosom of the other, we have alone the realisation
of worship.

There may, indeed, be much beautiful talk of the worship
of Nature, of the homage rendered by the whole round of
impersonal existence as it fulfils with a grand uniformity
the behests of its divine Author ; but the face of nature, we
know, as it thus fulfils its course, is turned to God with no
smile of intelligent recognition, or of holy meaning. There
is no free conscious response in its ever-circulating move-
ments to the great Being from whom cometh all its change
and beauty. It is the very glory of man, on the other
hand, that in all he does he knows and wills what he is
doing. And it is only in this element of intelligent and
spontaneous action, of living and hearty surrender, that
worship becomes a reality. It is only in the conception of
a finite will yielding itself in free and loving obedience to
the infinite Will, that piety finds its essential meaning. A
theistic faith, therefore, alone recognises the condition of
true worship. Pantheism in its very conception destroys
it, and leaves man, whatever may be its pretensions, with
no higher life than that of nature. Whether materialistic
or ideal, it equally takes away from man any reality
of existence distinct from the general existence of the uni-
verse. He is merely, in his whole being, a phase of the

372 THEISM.

world-life — its highest point of development in the one
case, its self-creating centre in the other. In either case
there is and can be nothing higher than himself The wor-
ship of humanity is, therefore, not only logically but
avowedly the only possible worship to the Pantheist, — posi-
tive or speculative.

M. Comte expressly propounds such a worship as the
appropriate terminus of Positivism. Humanity, as the
collective life of human beings, is in his system the etre
supreme — the only one we can know, therefore the only one
we can worship. * Hegelianism, in the later representa-
tions to which it has been consistently reduced by the
"Young Germany" school, bears the same import, and utters
the same language. We have, therefore, in these systems,
something avowed as the only possible worship, which in
its very conception contradicts the essential meaning of
worship. Instead of self-prostration, we have self-exalta-
tion— instead of self-sacrifice, self- idolatry. Worship
becomes a phantasy, or, still worse, a profanity.

In the more vul^^ar forms of materialistic unbelief all
reality of worship is still more expressly destroyed. Secu-
larism is the most recent form in which such unbelief has
put itself forward in this country ; and its most positive
and distino-uishine: feature, it is instructive to notice, is the
abnegation of all Avorship. Man, it is declared, has nothing
to do with any life beyond the present visible one which is
before him daily. Any hopes or fears for the future do not
concern him. Every possible basis of religion is thus

* CoMTE's Philosophj of the Sciences, pp. 341, 342. By G, H. Lewes.

CONCLUSION. 373

uprooted. Impiety, in siicli a system, becomes a creed, and
animalism its constant and infallible tendency.

It will be found, indeed, no less clear that morality only
finds a valid basis in a theistic doctrine. It is only in such
a personal relation between man and God as Theism implies
that responsibility emerges, and the very conception of duty
arises. Supposing man to have not merely the ground of
his being in Deity, but to be actually, as Pantheism teaches,
a part of Deity, so that the natural flow of his life is merely
a phase or transitional expression of the All-life, it is plain
that, in such a view, the very possibility of right and
wrong vanishes. If man, in all the modes of his being, be
nothing else than an expression of the divine Life which
lives through all, there cannot be for him any morality.
One species of action must be as good to him, because as
divine to him, as another. And this is a conclusion from
which modern Pantheism has not shrunk. In the figured
speech of one, all whose writings are more or less pantheistic
sermons, we are told " that the Divine effort is never relaxed ;
the carrion in the sun will convert itself into grass and
flowers; and man, though in brothels or jails, or on gibbets,
is on his way to all that is true and good.'' * We have
here a genuine expression of Pantheism, which, notwith-
standing its lofty prate of spiritualism, is still always, in the
necessity of the case, falling back into the slough of sensu-
alism, to which there is nothing higher than mere nature-
Life. Man is to it necessarily nothing else than " nature's
noblest production." He is a more complex and beautiful

* Emerson's Re])resentative Men, p. QS.

374 THEISM.

outgrowth tlian the grass and the flowers, but this is all.
There is no further spring of being in him than in them, and
morality is therefore in its idea a mere figment. He is
subject to no higher law than that by which nature works.
And there is nothing, therefore, that can be false or wrong
in his life, nor any more, indeed anything, that can be
right. Such terms can have no meaning in such a system.
Truth can only be a dream to it, and love an accident, finely
as it may discourse of the imperishableness of both.*

It is not to be denied, indeed, that Pantheism is often
pure and lofty in its moral language. In minds of exalted
bias and refined culture the mere life of nature is conceived
of as something noble and elevating ; and the writer from
whom we have already quoted, betrays sufficiently in all his
works his sense of such a life, in which the higher tendencies
of humanity are supposed to receive exercise and satisfac-
tion. But, lofty as may be the moral tone in which Panthe-
ism sometimes speaks, it bears in its bosom no moral
strength or vitality, and cannot do so. It may tell man to
be a hero, but it has no voice of encouragement, of w^arning,
or of help to him. It may bid him live purely as reason
dictates ; but man, in his common life, is not governed by
the clearness of his intellect, but by the rectitude of his
affections and will. Pantheistic intellectualism has accord-
ingly shown itself to be the coldest and least potent creed
that has ever sought to sway man. Some minds there
may always be, as in the old Eoman world, that can find
in it a degree of moral nurture, but to the common mind
* Emerson's Rejjresentaiivc Men, p. 69.

CONCLUSION. 375

and heart it is destitute of all moral meaning and power ;
nay, to them its sternest stoicism interprets itself by clear
logical consequence as moral indifferentism, which readily
passes over into any species of immorality, and theoretically
legitimatises it. The only genuine moral elements of per-
sonality and conscience find no place in it, and in the denial
of these we have in the end the sure destruction of all moral
life and happiness.

It is only a doctrine which preserves these elements in
their full integrity that furnishes a consistent basis for man's
religious and moral culture. As spiritual life only takes its
rise in them, so it can only flourish where they are clearly
acknowledged. The more deeply our whole being is studied,
the more, we feel assured, will freedom and conscience, and,
in a word, reason, as forming the comprehensive spiritual
element in man, be acknowledged as realities, — and Theism
hence be found the ennobling complement of all human
study, no less than the direct expression of Divine Eevelation.

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explains their several bearings We have thoroughly examined these volumes ;

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THE KUEAL ECONOMY OF ENGLAND,

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By Zieonce I>e Ziavergne.

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ITALIAN IRRIGATION.

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A New and Enlarged Edition of

THE PHYSICAL ATLAS OF NATUEAL

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Geographer in Ordinary to ITer Majesty for Scotland;
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INTEODUCTOEY TEXT-BOOK OF GEOLOGY.

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THE CHEMISTEY OF COMMON LIFE.

By James P, "^V, Johnston, IVE.A., F.II.SS. Ii. & E., &c.

Author of" Lectures on Agricultural Chemistry and Geology," &c.

With 113 Illustrations on Wood, and a Copious Index.

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NEW WORK BY PROFESSOR JOHNSTON.

Preparing for Publication.

THE GEOLOGY OF COMMON LIFE.

Comprising
OUR COALS AND COAL-FIELDS.
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THE METALS "WE MINE FOR.
THF STONES WE BUILD WITH.
OUR GYPSUM AND LIMESTONE BEDS.
VOLCANOES AND THEIR INFLUENCES.
THE PAST AND PRESENT — A COMPARISON.

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A MAP OF THE GEOLOGY OF EUEOPE.

By Sir Hoderick I. DIurchison, B.C.Zi., M.A., F.R.S. ;

AND

James STichol, F.R.S.Z:., F.G.S.,

Professor of Natural History, Aberdeen,

On Four Sheets, Imperial Folio.

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SCHOOL ATLASES

ALEX. KEITH JOHNSTON,

F.R.S.E., F.R.G.S., F.G.S.

Geographer' to the Queen, Author of the " Physical Atlas," &c.

PHYSICAL GEOGKAPHY, ilkxstrating, in a series of Original Designs,
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In this Atlas of Physical Geography tlie subject is treated in a more simple and ele-
mentary manner than in the previous works of the Author — the object being to convey
broad and general ideas on the form and structure of our Planet, and the principal
phenomena aifecting its outer crust.

CLASSICAL GEOGRAPHY, comprising, in Twenty Plates, Maps and
Plans of all the important Countries and Localities referred to by Classical Authors,
constructed from the best Materials, and embodying the Results of the most Recent
Investigations. Printed^in Colours, uniform with the Author's General and Physical
School Atlases, and accompanied by a Complete Index of Phices, in which the proper
Quantities of the Syllables are marked, by T. Uarvisy, M.A., Oxon., one of the
Classical Masters in the Edinburgh Academy.

GENERAL AND DESCRIPTIVE GEOGRAPHY, exhibiting the
Actual and Comparative Extent of all the Countries in the World ; with their present
Political Divisions. Constructed with a special view to the purposes of Sound Instruc-
tion, and presenting the following new features: — 1, Enlarged Size, and consequent
Distinctness of Plan. 2. Tlie most Recent Improvements in Geography. 3. A Uni-
form Distinction in Colour between Land and Water. 4. Great Clearness, Uniformity,
and Accuracy of Colouring. 5. A ready way of comparing Relative Areas by means of
Scales. 6. The insertion of the Corresponding Latitudes of Countries, Towns, <fec.
7. References to Colonial Possessions, &c., by Figures and Notes. 8. A carefully
compiled and complete Index.

ASTRONOMY. Edited by J. R. HIND, Esq., F.R.A.S., &c. With
Notes and descriptive Letterpress to each Plate, embodying all recent discoveries in
Astronomy. Eighteen Maps, Printed in Colours by a new process.

The above are all uniform in size. Price of each Atlas :— In Octavo (for School use),
strongly half-bound, 12s. (id. In a Portfolio, eacli Map separate, and mounted on canvass,
16s. 6"d. In Quarto, half-bound morocco, £1, Is. Separate Maps mounted on canvass,
each 8d.

V.

ELEMENTARY SCHOOL ATLAS OF GENERAL AND DESCRIP-
TIVE} GEOGRAPHY, for the use of Junior Classes ; including a Map of Canaan and
Palestine, and a General Index. lu Demy Quarto, price 7s. 0"d. half-bound.

A SERIES OF EIGHT GEOGRAPHICAL PROJECTIONS, to accom-
pany k kith Johnston's Atlases of Pliysical and General School Geography. Com-
prising the World (on Mercator's Projection)— EuuoPK—AsrA— Africa— North
AniERicA— South America— Thk British Ismcs. With a Rlank Pnue for laying
down the Meridians and Parallels of any JMap by the more advanced Pupils, lu a
Portfolio, price 2s. (id.

Date Due

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